Negative Capability
by EdgeofTown
Summary: Juliette and Avery can't face each other after their breakup, but can't let go, either. Instead, they exchange a series of letters as new challenges force them to confront their darkest secrets.
1. Chapter 1

It had been two days- two aching, silent days. How many times had she picked up the phone without thinking to call him, or send a text? It took everything within her to resist. She knew she had to give him some time, space. She owed him that – and much more.

Juliette sat on the couch in her living room, but looked out the windows to the outdoor terrace. She and Avery had spent so much time out there over the past year. It was where they wrote their first song together; where he'd played her his amazing mix of "Don't Put Dirt"; where they'd come out and burrowed under her soft down comforter in early spring to watch the sunrise after they'd been up all night making love. Juliette's throat constricted when she thought of two nights ago, when they'd also watched the sky turn into morning.

She had bared her very soul to him, all its ugliness and need. Any man in his right mind should've turned away, she thought. Any man would have run. When Avery had taken a step back, she was sure he was going to leave again. She turned her eyes away from him, folded her hands together. She couldn't bear to watch.

Then she heard his footsteps walking softly to the front of the terrace. She saw him sit down on the retaining wall. His back was to her, his gaze on the Nashville skyline. Juliette didn't know what to do, what this meant. So, she kept watch over him: the soft black jean jacket that he always wore, the way his shoulders shook so imperceptibly that she wondered if she was imagining it. An irrational part of her thought that if she took her eyes off him, he'd disappear.

Was it selfish that she wanted him to say something? She knew she'd wounded him deeply, but a tiny part of her was angry with him. She'd cut herself open and he hadn't done anything. Avery wasn't a big talker, this she knew, and she certainly didn't deserve anything from him, but she couldn't help but think that he was always holding something back from her. Juliette felt she could never bring it up before; so much of him was genuine and true, but she could sense that there were some parts of him that she couldn't touch. Parts she thought maybe Scarlett could. When she'd heard him say to Scarlett that she'd always have a place in his heart, her suspicions were confirmed.

She had given her heart to Avery, but the situation with Scarlett made her doubt that he cared. That scared her. She didn't like the feeling of being so vulnerable, so exposed, so she took it back. But when Avery had held her heart, he'd changed it. She hadn't counted on that. The guilt she felt after sleeping with Jeff was truly unknown to her, and when she thought of Avery finding out the truth, she knew it would destroy them both. So she'd panicked and she'd lied, and lied, and lied.

Yet judgment day had come, and he was still sitting right in front of her. Juliette wasn't sure how much time had passed, maybe hours, before she finally got up and sat down beside him. He didn't move. The sky burned violet; the stars were fading. Fresh tears slid down her cheeks and she cursed herself for being so weak. Summoning all her courage, she turned to face him.

He turned too, his lips pressed together in a tight line before he exhaled. He wasn't crying anymore, but Juliette could see a difference in those brilliant blue eyes. Where had their light gone? Their fire? Now all she could see was darkness. God, she'd changed him, too, and not for the better.

But he reached out and grabbed her arm with enough force that Juliette was surprised. Her mouth went dry.

"You are worth fighting for," he said. He squeezed her arm, rose, and finally left.

Juliette was pulled from her memories when she heard Emily walk in the front door.

"Mail call!"

"Why do you always say that?" Juliette laid her head against the back of the couch.

"It's just something I remember from summer camp. It was a highlight to get mail from home."

"Can't say I ever went to camp," Juliette said. "What's in there, bills?"

Emily paused. "There's a letter from Avery."

Juliette snatched the pile. She had a tiny flashback to the letter her mother had written her before she'd committed suicide, the weight of knowing she held her last words in her hands. She shook the memory away.

The letter's envelope held no clues. Juliette stared at Avery's handwriting for a second, remembered the way he wrote out versions of lyrics or chord progressions in twelve-stave manuscript books. Sometimes the words would wind and wrap around the staves where he'd sketch ideas for melodies or leads. She would always offer him legal pads or notebooks, but he just said he liked his way better. Holding the envelope, she wondered if this would be the last time she'd see his handwriting. This had to be a "Dear Jane" letter.

Emily bit her lip. "I've got some phone calls to make. I'll be in the office if you need me."

Juliette nodded and Emily stepped quietly away.

"So you know, or you don't know," Juliette whispered to herself. "What choice do you have?" Neither option would make it hurt any less. She knew she should trust what he'd said to her the other night, but knowing you should trust someone and actually being able to do it were two entirely different things. If past experience had taught her anything, it was that no one could be trusted. What would make Avery any different?

Still, she waited a moment before finally ripping open the envelope. Inside was a letter, handwritten.

Dear Juliette:

I remember the first time I read about John Keats' idea of "negative capability." He was a Romantic poet, and he said negative capability is "when man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts." To me, it meant the ability to hold two completely opposing viewpoints in your mind and being able to live with them both. It meant to cultivate empathy. I couldn't believe that such a thing was even possible, when this whole world always wants you to choose sides. It just blew my mind. It's not an easy or straightforward concept, especially for someone like me who's always too quick to fly off the handle. Now, it means more to me than ever before.

Two opposing viewpoints:

I want to carry this burden for you, gather up what is broken and fix it. I want to go and find every man that's ever taken advantage of you and beat him senseless, tear his guts out and make him feel every ounce of pain that you've felt. I would be by your side, on your side.

But I am also crushed: crushed that you thought so little of me; crushed that you didn't think of me at all. It kills me that everything I've done for you, every moment I've supported you, loved you, wasn't enough to stop you from destroying the both of us.

Now I have a better idea of just how much you hurt, how much you've always hurt, and how that colors everything you see. I wasn't paying enough attention before. I missed signals from you. I've always sensed your self-destructive impulse, even seen it in action a few times, but now I have sounded its true depths.

The same river runs through me.

It would be so easy for both of us to be pulled under by the current and drown. Succumb to the darkness, the lack of oxygen.

But I can't accept that. For better or for worse, I've been wired for survival. So have you. I don't know if you'll believe me now, but I know you will come out of this. You will be okay, with or without me. Baby, I'm counting on it.

Where does this leave us? I don't know. There's so much I can't understand; it makes me question a lot of things. But I do know this much: I ain't a quitter and I ain't a liar. I've made promises to you, both explicitly and implicitly, that I will keep.

I think a huge part of the problem between us is simply that we don't know each other yet. So much has gone unspoken, and that's okay, but I think if you had known more about me, if I had let you in more, maybe you wouldn't have freaked out so much, maybe you could have had a little more faith in me and my choices. That's my fault. There's the me that tries so hard to do the right thing, the decent guy, the one I hope to see in the mirror in the morning. Then there's the other me, the one who can't do anything right, who keeps fucking up over and over, even without knowing. He's scared and insecure and small. I've been embarrassed to tell you about my past because I've done so much that I'm ashamed of. Made a lot of stupid, selfish mistakes.

We are so alike sometimes it scares me.

I want to tell you now. I want to show you my damaged, cowardly heart. Maybe you won't accept it. Maybe you'll walk away. I'll understand. But if you can stand it, let this letter be the first of a series. And if you want, you can write to me, too. I don't know if I'm strong enough to see you right now, but I won't leave you alone. You can carry my words with you until it's time to meet again.

Avery

The pages blurred. Juliette took deep, gulping breaths and curled up on her side. No one had ever written her a letter quite like this before. It was completely _him_, somehow starting with a poet she'd never heard of and ending with gut-wrenching honesty. Her body was broken by the obvious pain, and obvious love, in his words. And he was worried that she wouldn't accept him? That she'd be scared away? They really were just alike.

Despite everything, a tiny glimmer of hope shined through those pages. She could see it in every messy, smudged word. It was a small, precious thing, and Juliette decided that she would not let it go. 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much for the warm welcome. This is a longer chapter; I'm still finding my feet with this.**

* * *

Deacon heard the loud rock music even before he got to Avery's door. The guitar riff sounded swampy and dark; the singer brooded in a low grumble. He shook his head. The boy must be in rough shape.

He knocked on the door. Avery didn't answer. Deacon started pounding. "I know you're in there, Barkley. Open up." He heard no movement. "I ain't leaving, and I think your neighbors are going to be mighty pissed that I'm yelling in your hallway!"

The door swung open. Avery scowled. "Happy now?"

Deacon took in Avery's appearance: a faded Ole Miss T-shirt, ripped jeans, wild hair, dark, almost-bruised looking circles under the eyes. "Thanks for inviting me in," he said, and pushed past him.

"Join the party."

Deacon glanced around until he found the stereo receiver and turned down the music. "I don't know how you can listen to this mopey stuff."

"Excuse me, but The National is the best band to ever to come out of Ohio. Actually, they're one of the best bands ever."

Deacon smiled. "Good. There's still some fight in you."

Avery sank onto the couch. "That's where you're wrong. I got nothing left." He wouldn't meet Deacon's eyes.

Deacon sat on the other end of the couch, pushing aside several wadded-up balls of paper. "I missed you at the Bluebird last night. That kid Brett filled in for you but he just can't run the board. Way too much feedback. So I asked after you with Erika, and she said you'd called out sick the past two days."

"I've had a terrible headache," Avery said, rubbing a hand under his jaw.

Deacon noted the disarray around the apartment – clothes draped over the furniture, a broken plate on the kitchen floor, a chair laying on its side. All the empty beer bottles littering every surface. "I figured I should come check on you."

"So you checked. Feel better?"

"Nope." Deacon leaned in until Avery was forced to look at him. "Scarlett told me you broke up with Juliette."

Avery didn't say anything, but the flash of pain in his eyes confirmed everything to Deacon.

"What happened, man?"

"That's between her and me. It ain't anyone's business."

"I can respect that," Deacon said, "but sometimes you gotta let these things out. Whatever happened between you is eating you alive."

Avery stared at the wall. "I don't want to tell you because I don't want you to ever think less of her. I couldn't live with that. She's going to need you."

"I would never judge her. Or you. You know that."

Avery didn't respond.

"Look, I know it was bad enough that Juliette showed up drunk to the recovery benefit."

Avery blinked twice. "What?"

"She came in the back when you were singing. I grabbed her before she could make a scene. She was screaming that you wrote the song for her."

"I didn't know she was there at all. She heard the song?"

Deacon shrugged. "Maybe a tiny bit. But I don't know if she could really – compute."

"Good." Avery swallowed. "I'm sure it made me look like a clueless asshole."

"No."

"Don't lie to me, Deacon."

Deacon inhaled. "I'm trying to read between the lines here, but if what I'm thinking is true, well, I've been in a very similar situation recently." He gritted his teeth. "Megan cheated on me. With our illustrious mayor."

Avery pushed back the hair from his forehead. "Damn. I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Deacon was quiet for a moment. "My point is –"

"Tell me something. What did you do? Huh?" Avery rose from the couch. "You tell her everything's forgotten? That it was okay you weren't enough for her?"

Deacon looked stricken, but said nothing.

"You broke up with her, right?"

"Yes." Deacon got up. "But there's a difference here between that situation and yours."

"I know the difference. It's that Megan was not Rayna."

Deacon tugged at his collar, hot all of a sudden. "Just what are you implying?"

"Don't play dumb, Deacon. In the end, you got over her because she was never the one you wanted. If you were pissed, it was more about Mayor Conrad than her anyway."

Deacon's face flushed. "Lemme tell you something, Barkley. Don't assume you know what anyone is thinking or feeling. It's presumptuous. 'Cause you'll never truly know another person."

Avery nodded. "You're right. You have no idea just how right you are."

"You think I haven't struggled? That it didn't destroy me to find out that I had a child with the woman I loved, a child she hid from me in plain sight for thirteen years? That she was lying to me every single day?" Deacon turned away from Avery. He thought he'd laid this to rest at the concert at Fort Campbell. Apparently he wasn't as understanding as he'd thought. He hadn't heard from Rayna since the night he'd proposed; it was making him irritable.

Avery walked and leaned up against the counter in his tiny kitchen. "You probably don't want to hear this, but the way I feel for Juliette, it's –" He coughed. "It's different than anything I've felt before. I thought I loved Scarlett. I mean, I think I did, but not the way I should have. Not if it was going to be forever." Avery smiled bitterly. "There's a part of you that's glad this is happening. I'm getting what I deserve."

Deacon turned. "There you go, putting words in my mouth again." He took a step closer. "Was I pissed at you for how you treated Scarlett in the past? Yes. But that's over. Hell, she even took you back again after that. And I've seen how you've changed. You ain't the same person you were. You humbled yourself. That takes guts and courage. It impressed the hell out of me."

Avery looked down. He couldn't believe Deacon just said that, after everything he'd done.

"Avery, listen to me. I consider the both of you to be my friends, and I care about you. Now, I ain't making excuses, but we both know that Juliette's had way more to deal with in her life than most, and it's amazing she's come this far. But there are a lot of demons lurking that no one knows about. We both know what those demons can do to you."

Avery's head dropped further. He wondered how much he knew, how far Juliette had let him in. Maybe Deacon knew her better than he did; the thought hurt.

Deacon stepped closer and took hold of Avery's shoulder, making him look up. "And here's something I know about the two of you, something you share: You're both prone to desperation. To be honest, that scares me."

Avery shook him off, startled. He walked back into the living room.

"You ever feel hopeless or on the edge or something, you call me. Or Scarlett or Gunnar. Somebody. Please." Deacon scanned the apartment. "'Cause you sure as hell won't find the answers in the bottom of these bottles."

Avery was touched by the older man's concern, but felt too unworthy to fully accept it. "Can you answer me this, then?" He sat down on the arm of the couch. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Deacon glanced to the side, then walked to a far part of the room, coming back with a guitar. He placed it in Avery's hands. "This is what you do. You take everything you're feeling now, and you pour it into here. You take it slow. And maybe someday you'll be able to look to the future."

Avery's face hardened. "I can't do the last part."

"Why not?"

Avery looked up at Deacon. "Because I cannot imagine any kind of future without her."

* * *

Glenn finished the email he was writing on his tablet and looked over to see Juliette emerging from her bedroom. He noticed she looked pale, drawn. Her eyes were red-rimmed and raw. She hadn't put on any makeup; she wore blue sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

"Am I late for the meeting?" She gave him a half-smile and pulled a stool out from her kitchen island, sitting. She rested her arms on the counter.

"Since when have you ever cared about being late?"

"Oh, I need coffee," Juliette said, burying her head on her folded arms.

Glenn left his stool and walked to her coffee maker, which was a single cup machine. "Half-caf 'Morning Sunrise?'"

Juliette shook her head, still not raising it from the counter. "Nuh-uh. High-test, please."

Glenn turned the coffee pod rack until he found something more suitable. He busied himself with making the drink. "So, there's been a lot of nice buzz from Rayna's concert a few days ago. _The Tennessean_ said some positive things about your performance with her."

Juliette snorted, raising her head. "What? Juliette Barnes managed not to show up drunk this time?"

Glenn stiffened and turned around. "What are you talking about?"

Juliette frowned. She hadn't meant to ever let Glenn find out about that. But she was so tired, the words just slipped out. "Before you hear this from Rayna, I guess I should tell you. I went to the benefit for Sober House like I was scheduled. Only I forgot to show up sober."

"Juliette."

"Don't give me that disappointed look, Glenn. I've had enough disappointed looks to last me a lifetime."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there," he said, but Juliette held up her hand.

"You're allowed time off." Juliette looked away from him, out the windows to the terrace.

When the coffee finished brewing, Glenn took the mug and brought it to Juliette. "So are you going to tell me the reason why you were drunk?"

She'd been debating whether to tell Glenn all the sordid details. But Rayna knew, and Jeff, and Avery, and someone else who'd obviously seen her with Jeff that night who had told Avery. She knew there was little chance to keep this quiet. Just like everything else in her life, it would soon be more grist for the mill. "I made a terrible mistake. After Scarlett's breakdown, Avery and I had a fight. I should have realized that we were both exhausted and not thinking straight. But I overheard something he said to her, and I thought he was going to leave me."

Juliette's tone was flat, matter-of-fact, but Glenn knew her well enough to know that her heart was breaking inside. "Go on," he said.

"So." Juliette blinked back a tear. "I went to the BMI party alone. I got really, really drunk. I was so upset and angry. I just wanted to throw it all away." She ran a hand through her hair. "Then Jeff Fordham sat next to me at the bar. He was in the same kind of mood I was in."

"Juliette, I don't like where this story is headed."

Her lip quivered. "You've got to realize that I hate myself for this. But I don't know what I was thinking at the time. All I know is that I was hurt, and I didn't want to feel that way. So I went with him into the screening room, and we had sex."

Glenn was frozen. He didn't say anything for a full minute. "Good God," he finally whispered. He reached out and touched Juliette's hand. "Are you okay?"

Juliette sighed. "He didn't hurt me, if that's what you're asking. I just, I get myself in these situations, and I go dead inside. I _want_ to feel dead."

"You're scaring me, Juliette."

"The next day, I realized what I had done to Avery, and to myself, and I regretted it. I have never regretted anything in my life like this." She wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand. "Then Jeff started blackmailing me, telling me to get myself dropped from Highway 65 and come back to Edgehill or he'd tell Avery everything."

Glenn was very quiet. His hands shook on the counter, so he placed them in his lap.

"I tried to talk to Rayna about it, but not tell her exactly what was going on, but that didn't work. So I thought if I showed up drunk to the benefit and caused a scene, she'd have to drop me. That didn't work either. Deacon found me before I could go out and make a bigger fool of myself. Rayna came over later and I told her everything, and she told me to tell Avery the truth. But it was too late, because someone else must have seen me with Jeff and told Avery first." She squeezed her eyes shut. "We broke up that night."

Glenn left his stool and walked to the other side of the counter. He reached over and hugged Juliette. She softened onto his shoulder. "That sounds like an awful mess," he finally said, pulling back.

"I know there are no excuses for what I did," she started, but Glenn cut her off.

"And you weren't going to tell me any of this?"

"I'm ashamed of myself," Juliette said. "I couldn't bear you being ashamed, too."

"You listen to me," Glenn said. "My job is to always look out for you and your best interests. You have _got_ to let me know when things like this happen. I'm your manager. I need to know everything so I can protect you. When I came back, I promised myself that I would never let anyone take advantage of you again like Dante did. But it looks like I fell down on the job."

"No, Glenn. Don't blame yourself. This was all my fault."

He sighed, going into crisis mode. "So now Jeff doesn't have any leverage against you anymore?"

Juliette shrugged. "I'm staying at Highway 65. Although I guess he could tell other people we slept together. But really, can my reputation be damaged any further?"

"Who's the other person who knows about you and Jeff?"

"I'm not sure. It must be a friend of Avery's. It doesn't matter."

Glenn reached out and touched Juliette's hair. "Oh, baby girl. Why do you keep sabotaging yourself?"

Juliette hung her head. "I don't know, Glenn. But I do know that I need help. Therapy." She looked up. "Can you help me find someone? I want to start as soon as I can."

Glenn was shocked to hear these words from Juliette. She had refused all counseling when her mother died. He wouldn't have thought this situation to be any different. "Of course I'll help. I'll make some calls."

"Thank you."

"In the meantime, what are we going to do about writing for the album? The tour? Are you up for this?"

"I'm a professional, Glenn. Everything is full speed ahead." Juliette stared off into the distance.

"I was really hoping Avery would co-write and produce it with you. I guess that's off the table."

"We're still using his version of "Dirt," okay?"

"Got it. But I'll look into other producers for the new tracks."

Juliette took a sip of her coffee, wincing at the heat. "I appreciate it."

Glenn started to walk away, but turned back. "Juliette, this is none of my business, but do you think maybe you and Avery could work it out?"

"I don't know, Glenn. I'm not sure where we stand right now. I haven't spoken to him."

He nodded. "It's just – I've never seen you so happy in all the years I've known you. I hope you won't give up; on him, or on yourself."

* * *

Juliette decided to take a jog around her neighborhood. Just a quick run, she'd told Emily after a long day of meetings. Could she help it if the mail came around four?

She estimated she'd done around a mile, but she couldn't seem to pick up her pace. She told herself it was because she'd been so tired recently. She wasn't sleeping well. Maybe someday this ache wouldn't wrack her body anymore; maybe she'd be able to close her eyes and not see his face crumbling; maybe she'd find a tiny bit of peace again.

The fantasy wouldn't hold. She'd have better luck building a time machine.

She spotted the mailman up ahead. He was sitting in the truck, sorting. She ran faster and approached his open door. "Well, fancy meeting you here, Mr. Mailman."

The mailman's head popped up. His eyes got bigger, surprised to see a celebrity approach his truck. "Hello, Ms. Barnes. Out for a jog?"

"Yes, and I thought while I'm at it, I'd just get my mail."

"You're the next street over. I could put it in your box."

"No, that's okay, I'll take it now." She smiled sweetly at him.

The mailman nodded. "Just give a minute to find it." He pulled a plastic bin closer and dug through it until he found her mail. "Here you go," he said, handing her the pile.

"What's your name?" she asked, taking it, trying not to dig through that second.

"Jim."

"Jim, thank you. I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot of you around the neighborhood." She gave him a dazzling smile and walked away.

Jim shook his head as he watched her go. He didn't expect a big star to go chasing after the mailman, but they acted pretty normal in Nashville, not full of themselves like out in Hollywood. He found his next delivery and drove up the street.

Juliette shuffled through the envelopes and flyers. Maybe there wouldn't be a letter today. He probably didn't mean every day. Getting your hopes up is stupid, Juliette thought. Better to have no hopes.

But then she found it, the simple white envelope. The return address only had his last name, Barkley. Knowing she was holding his words in her hands gave her a lift. She jogged back to her home. When she reached it, she didn't want to go inside. Instead, she gave a quick nod to Bo who was out front and moved to the backyard. She sat down on a white chaise lounge chair and opened the envelope, her hands shaking.

Dear Juliette,

I moved to Nashville June 1, 2010, a week after I'd graduated from Ole Miss. Scarlett came with me, although she almost didn't. She was going to move back to Natchez – her mom was pressuring her something fierce. But I didn't want to do that, didn't want _her_ to do it, either. We'd fought about it all senior year, and finally, we broke up over it. There were a lot of tears, a lot of accusations of not loving the other enough, and looking back, everything was probably true. But even though it broke my heart, I knew I had to be willing to sacrifice anyone and anything for my music. I had to go it alone – I'd done it before and I'd do it again.

But then she showed up at my door two weeks before finals, all braids and skirts and fire in her eyes, to hell with her Mama and her demands, it was time to live her own life for a change – well, I was overwhelmed. I took her back. Or she took me back. And she didn't leave my side for two years, although to be honest with you, she probably should have left me our first day here.

We drove up in my truck, a little U-Haul trailer attached behind. It took us about four hours to get here from Oxford. We were both wired with anxiety and excitement, and we sang along to nearly every song on the radio. We made a stop at a rest area to eat turkey sandwiches and drink sweet tea. We talked about what we'd do for work once we got here, what color we'd paint our bedroom. The place I'd lined up was small but seemed clean and well-cared for in the pictures I'd seen. I found the apartment online, and the landlord was easy to work with. I'd talked to him on the phone several times. He'd sent me the contract before I'd sent any money. Which I then did, first and last month's rent and a security deposit, even though it about emptied my bank account. He told me he'd meet us at the building that day to give us the keys.

Scarlett had been to Nashville before to visit Deacon, but I'd never seen it. When we finally came within its sights on I-40, I almost couldn't believe it. I'd lived in small towns all of my life, yet here was the big city rising right in front of me: the Nashville skyline, just like the Bob Dylan album. It took everything in me not to let Scarlett see the tears in my eyes.

We pulled up in front of the apartment building a little early, but I wanted to be sure we'd meet the landlord on time. He told me he'd be driving a white Suburban. So we waited in the truck. And waited. And waited. Scarlett kept talking in her Scarlett way, trying to cover up the fact that she was nervous; that we both knew something wasn't right. After an hour, I called the guy's cellphone. Wouldn't you know it was somehow not in service?

I didn't want to believe that I'd been scammed, that I'd lost all of my money, that I'd made such a huge mistake on the very first day, one that threatened everything I'd worked so hard for. One that could screw up Scarlett's life, too. I wouldn't accept that. "I'm going inside to see if I can find this guy," I told Scarlett. "Wait here."

"I'm coming with you," she said, her hand on the door.

It was an unsecured building, so we just walked in. I couldn't find a super or an office. Our apartment was supposed to be #25, so I thought maybe I'd walk up there and somehow find the landlord. Maybe there was a mix up. It was stupid, but I was desperate.

We knocked on the door of #25. "Hello, is anyone in there?" I asked.

A man answered the door. The apartment was fully furnished behind him. "What do you want?"

"Do you know a Dean? He's the landlord?"

The guy rolled his eyes. "Not this shit again." He pointed down the hall. "Get out of here and go to the police station. This fucker's scammed you, too."

My hands started to shake.

"You're the fourth person that thought they were renting my apartment. Only this Dean guy isn't a landlord and the apartment isn't for rent." He shook his head. "They were all just like you, too, bunch of young, dumb kids who didn't know what they were doing."

Scarlett grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "Thanks for the information, sir," she said. She started to pull me away.

"Welcome to the real world, sweethearts," the guy said as he closed the door in our faces.

I already knew how "real" the world was. He didn't know how hard I'd worked, how I'd left the only home I'd known, how I was already up to my eyeballs in debt from college, how this was supposed to be the start of the rest of my life. How close everything was to falling apart. I wrenched my hand away from Scarlett's. I couldn't look at her. Then I screamed and punched a hole in the wall. My hand went right through the flimsy sheetrock.

"Avery!" Scarlett stared at me with wide eyes.

My hand didn't even hurt; I couldn't process the pain yet.

She moved away from me. "We have to go."

I guess we hustled down the stairs. I just remember getting back in the truck and not knowing what to do next.

"We'll just go to the police and file a report. He said there were other people who got tricked. There's probably already a case. Maybe you'll get some of your money back." Scarlett rubbed my hand, which was red, but still numb. She was always trying to comfort me.

"No police."

"But Avery, this man stole from you!"

I didn't see it that way. "This is what I get for being stupid."

"You're not stupid," Scarlett said, but I cut her off.

"I am stupid. And reckless and bullheaded. And now we are fucked."

She looked away from me. "Deacon's on the road right now, or I'd say we'd go to his place. I wish I had a key."

"I do not want your uncle finding out about this. He doesn't like me anyway, how's he going to react knowing we have no place to live?"

Just then Scarlett's cell phone rang. She took it out of her purse. "God, it's my Mama. I was supposed to call her when we arrived." Scarlett shook her head. "Maybe we can drive back to Mississippi and stay for a few days while we figure this out." She had her hand on the "send" button, but I grabbed her before she could press it.

"We're doing no such thing."

The phone rang and rang, its tone drilling into my brain. Scarlett inched away from me towards the door of the cab. "Avery, you know I have to answer right away or she's going to get upset."

"I know."

"So I'll just tell her what's happened – "

God help me, I don't know where I got the words, but they came out like ice. "You listen to me. You will answer the phone, and you will lie to her. You will tell her how cute our new apartment is, how safe, whatever you think it will take to get her off the phone."

"But Avery, I don't know if I can," Scarlett stuttered.

"You can, and you will. That's an order!"

I saw something shift in Scarlett's eyes in that moment; I saw fear there. She was afraid of me. She took a deep breath and put on her best fake happy voice, looking out the passenger window. "Hey, Mama. I'm sorry I forgot to call you earlier. We just started moving in."

We drove in circles until late in the evening, mostly because I didn't know where the hell I was going. I was too blinded by rage and self-loathing to even think. Scarlett wouldn't speak to me. She just kept playing with the hem of her skirt, rubbing the fabric back and forth between her fingers.

Before I knew it, I'd ended up driving to Opry Mills. The lot there is huge, and I figured maybe there'd be some dark corner I could park in. I found a far space, and in the distance stood the Opry House.

It had been hours since we'd spoken. My mouth was dry. I tried to joke with her. "Hey, you want to see the show?"

Scarlett burst into tears. I couldn't get her to stop. Finally, she just collapsed out of exhaustion against the seat. I tried to hug her, tried to get her to see that I was sorry, that I hated myself for getting us into this mess, but she shrunk away from my touch and jammed herself against the passenger door. Eventually, I could hear that she had fallen asleep.

I couldn't. I sat behind the wheel all night, thinking of everything I'd done leading up to this moment, wondering how the second I started going after my dreams it all went wrong. I thought about what I might say to Scarlett when she woke up, worried that she'd leave me when she did.

God, Juliette, I couldn't get the look of fear in her eyes out of my mind. Without thinking, without realizing, I was turning into him. I was fooling myself to think that I was different; his very blood ran through my veins. There was nothing I could do to stop it.

Avery

Juliette turned the pages over in her hands. She never thought she'd want to hear a story about Avery and Scarlett, but this was an important one. She'd gotten the impression that they were close, first love and hearts and flowers and all that. But Avery had just painted a very different picture. It was hard to reconcile the Avery that she knew, so strong, dependable, and caring, with the one he'd written about.

She felt badly that he'd been scammed on his first day here, and she felt a twinge of recognition in his refusal to go to the police. Instead of thinking that some asshole had swindled him, he accepted the loss of his money as punishment. Like it was inevitable and just. Like she'd done with Dante.

There were also a lot of hints in the letter of things that roiled beneath the surface for him: the ambition, the stoic refusal of help, the ruthlessness with which he could cut people out of his life. And the "him" he referred to in the last lines. He was surely referring to his father. Avery never talked about his family with her. It was as if they didn't exist. She wasn't even sure where in Ohio he was from.

She laid her head back against the chair's cushion. She expected the letter to be about their relationship, but it didn't mention her at all. Even so, the cracks in Avery's façade were showing, and she was glad he let her see.


	3. Chapter 3

Juliette was going to throw up. She knew it. She'd already done it once that morning. She tried to convince herself it was because she wasn't eating, and when you don't eat, you lose your appetite, which just makes all the acid in your stomach build up even more and makes you more nauseated. It was a cycle.

But as she sat in her car in front of the nondescript medical building near Vanderbilt, she couldn't deny the real reason for her nausea: this was her first day of therapy. And damn it, she was scared out of her mind.

She'd tried therapy a few times in the past, but it had never worked. She couldn't see the point. Then, of course, there was Dante, someone whom she'd thought she could trust. She'd thought he was a trained professional. She'd opened up to him, and he'd used it against her. It was a violation.

So why in the hell was she here? Why was she going to go in there and spill her guts to a stranger, one who could hurt her or judge her? What if the therapist decided she was beyond help?

Juliette knew the answer: it was for him. He'd said it: "You are worth fighting for." Maybe Avery was fighting for her, down in the depths of his heart, but she suspected he'd had a double meaning in mind: she had to fight for herself. That she could have all the therapy in the world, but if she didn't want to get better for herself, it would be for nothing. Intellectually, this made sense, but her heart didn't want to hear it.

Talking about pain could only bring more pain. Better to bury it and move on, like she'd done so many times before. She wished she could do that, but lately it felt like she was crawling her way out of her own skin, like her skeleton would suddenly burst from her body. All of this crap was surging to the surface, and she couldn't handle it alone. She wanted so badly talk to Avery about this, tell him how she'd screwed up again and broken the heart of the only man she'd ever loved, but of course, that man was him. She'd not only lost her lover, but her best friend.

Juliette swallowed the bile rising in her throat and opened the car door. She slipped on her big sunglasses and faced the bright morning. She hoped no one watching her walk in could see how her legs were shaking.

* * *

Avery smoothed the collar on his shirt and waited in a hallway at Soundcheck. He hoped he didn't look hung over. The day before, he'd gotten a call from Bucky Dawes that Rayna wanted to meet with him regarding a project. About just what he hadn't said, and Avery prayed it wasn't Juliette's album. If that were the case, he'd have some serious thinking to do. Still, you just didn't say no to a meeting with Rayna Jaymes, so he'd said yes, he'd love to come by.

Bucky breezed down the hall. "Rayna's finishing up a meeting with her tour manager, but she's running late. It'll be a little while longer."

"Not a problem," Avery said. When Bucky left, he resumed looking at his phone. He flipped through his photo album. He didn't know why he tortured himself with the pictures, but he couldn't help himself: Juliette on the streets of Seattle, holding a cup of coffee, a blue beret tilted on her head at just the right angle; Juliette asleep in her seat on her plane; Juliette in bed, hair tangled, giving him the evil eye for taking her picture first thing in the morning. And all of the pictures of them together: in Chicago, walking along Michigan Avenue; at the restaurant where he'd taken her out for dinner the second time, a tiny place that served Nashville's famous hot chicken; at home, sitting on his couch – she'd kissed him on the cheek right when he'd held the phone out. Her eyes were closed and he had the biggest grin on his face. They looked so happy, so in love. It was real, what they'd had, this picture was the proof. How had it all gone so bad so quickly? He'd tried so hard to be the man Juliette needed, the one who would never let her down – but he'd done it anyway. Maybe he was fooling himself thinking they'd have lasted. Like she'd ever stay with a guy like him for long, one who had so little to offer her.

He clicked his phone off and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to empty his mind and prepare for whatever Rayna had to say, but he started hearing a rudimentary melody on a piano, and a wrong note being hit over and over at the same point. Finally, a little voice said, "Come on!" and mashed the piano keys in frustration.

Avery got up and rounded the corner in the hallway. There he saw Rayna's youngest daughter, Daphne, sitting at the piano, the very one that he'd played "The Morning of the Rain" on with Juliette's other roadies. She frowned at the keys and started again, but still hit the wrong note. "I'll never get it," she said to herself.

Avery walked up slowly to the piano, stepping into her line of sight so he wouldn't startle her. "You're really close," he said. "But the note you need is half a step up." He played it, and Daphne brightened.

"That's it! Thank you." She smiled up at Avery. "Do you work here?"

"No. I'm actually waiting to have a meeting with your mom. My name's Avery Barkley."

Daphne looked at him hard for a minute. "I think I've seen you before." Her eyes got bigger in recognition. "Oh you're Juliette's – "

"I'm her friend," Avery interrupted.

"I was going to say guitar player. I remember you now from the Opry."

Avery blushed at his overreaction. She's just a little kid, Barkley, he thought. Relax. "I play for her sometimes. Not all the time."

"I really loved that song," Daphne said, looking down at the piano keys. "My favorite line is 'nothing on me says defeat.'" She sang it, clear as a bell.

Avery nodded. "Well, thank you. That was a line I wrote."

"You wrote the song with Juliette?"

"Yup."

"I write songs, too. I mean, I try. My sister knows how to play guitar. I want to learn an instrument, too. I'm figuring some stuff out on the piano but I don't know enough yet." She looked at him shyly. "Would you mind helping me a little? If you have a minute?"

Avery was taken by Daphne's straightforward, positive nature. "Sure."

Daphne moved on the piano bench so he could sit down. "I'm trying really hard, but I can't get started right."

"I think you've started fine. It's a pretty melody." Avery looked down at the keys. "Well, when I begin a song, I try to think about the feeling I want to express. What is the feeling in this song?"

Daphne sucked in her lower lip and gingerly played. "It's a mixed-up feeling."

Avery nodded. "I know mixed-up." While Daphne played the treble notes, Avery added a simple walking bass line. They played like this for a few moments before Daphne spoke again.

"I was thinking about how I'm the baby of the family. Maddie calls me that all the time, but I'm eleven now." She sighed. "I thought I might call the song 'The Baby.'"

"I have to tell you, Blake Shelton had a number one song by that name, too."

"Okay," Daphne said. "I don't want to copy. Blake and Miranda are super nice. I met them at a party once."

Avery smiled at her nonchalance. It was like she said she met someone from her mom's office. "We can still work on this, even if you have to call it something else."

Daphne looked at him. "When I said mixed-up, I guess I mean a lot of stuff is changing, again. Nobody ever asks me what I feel about it."

Avery rested his hand on the keys. "Then let me. What do you feel right now?"

Daphne looked down, her blonde hair falling across her eyes. "It's weird. I like Luke a lot, but I was so mad at him for proposing to my mom like that, in front of all of those people. He didn't even ask me or Maddie what we thought first. It wasn't nice to be surprised like that."

"I hear you," Avery said, and suddenly felt like he was overstepping a boundary. Clearly, Daphne needed someone to talk to, and was so desperate to have her thoughts heard that she'd confide in a relative stranger. That didn't feel right to him. He tried to steer the conversation away from this topic. "Let's think about how you can put some of this into the song. I'm the baby in my family, too. I know it's hard when no one takes you seriously because you're young."

Daphne pushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. "It's like being invisible." She played the notes again as she sang, "You don't see me, but I'm right here."

"That's great. Let me show you something." He reached down to Daphne's end of the piano. "If you combine these notes, C E and G, that's a C chord. It gives you a fuller sound."

"Oh, like chords on a guitar."

"Right. Most of the time you'll play chords on the guitar, but sometimes you'll play individual notes, too, like when you're playing a solo."

Soon, Avery and Daphne fell into a rhythm, sometimes stopping so Avery could show her another piano technique, sometimes to talk about song lyrics. Neither one noticed the time going by because they were so absorbed.

Rayna emerged from the conference room. "Buck, can you send Avery in?" But she didn't see her manager anywhere, so she walked down the hall. Avery wasn't sitting where she expected, so she kept walking. Then she heard a piano, and Daphne singing. She peeked around the corner and found Daphne and Avery on the piano bench.

Daphne played the chords, Avery the bass line. She sang. "You think I'm not listening, but I hear everything you say. I'm not a kid anymore, even though you think of me that way."

Rayna's breath caught in her throat. Daphne sounded so beautiful, yet the emotion in the song was undeniable. Her daughter looked strong and sad at the same time, and suddenly much more grown up.

"Look at me. See what I see. Look at me. I'm not just your baby." They paused, and Rayna started clapping while blinking back tears. She really had to have a serious conversation with her girl. "That was beautiful."

Avery turned to Rayna. "I'm sorry. Did I make you wait?"

"Y'all were writing a song?"

"Mom, Avery was helping me. He taught me some stuff on piano."

"Really?"

Avery nodded. "She's a quick study."

"Babe, I have to have my meeting with Avery now."

Daphne looked at Avery. "Thank you for helping me. Do you give lessons?"

Avery paused. "You know, I never have, but I could."

Daphne looked at her mother with doe eyes. "Mom, please?"

"We'll talk about this later, hon." Rayna smiled apologetically at Avery.

"Keep working on that, Daphne," Avery said. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too." She turned back to the piano with a determined look.

Avery fell into step with Rayna down the hall. "I think she put you on the spot there."

"She's been asking for lessons. I need to speak with her father." She held open the door to the conference room and found Bucky sitting there. "Good, we're all here now."

Avery sat on one side of the table, Bucky across, and Rayna at the head. "I should congratulate you on your engagement, Ms. Jaymes," he said, gesturing to the giant diamond on Rayna's hand. It looked too big to Avery, like it was weighing down her whole arm.

"Thank you." Rayna smiled, but it seemed a little vacant. "And thank you for coming in today. First, I want you to know that I'm sorry things didn't work out with Scarlett's album. What I heard of the work you did, I really liked. That song you co-wrote, 'Falling,' was just gorgeous."

"Thanks. I had that piece of music for a while, but it took Scarlett's lyrics to make it a whole song."

"But I meant the production, too. I still feel badly that you weren't able to finish the project."

"And that we weren't able to pay you in full," Bucky added.

"It was probably for the best," Avery said, swallowing. He couldn't help but think that he should have turned Scarlett down. If he had, maybe none of this mess would have happened. Or maybe it would have only delayed the inevitable.

"I still like your work, Avery, so I wanted to give you another opportunity."

Avery kept his face as still as possible. If she said Juliette's album, he didn't want her to see the hurt in his eyes.

"My brand-new artist, Evan Rider, is about to record his first album, and I think you'd be perfect for the project."

Avery let out the breath he was holding.

"He's from Florida, and I think he's going to be a big star. Can I play you his demo?"

"Sure."

The music was mostly traditional country but with a rockabilly influence Avery picked up on right away. Rider's voice was deep and rugged. Avery tapped his foot along with the song. "I can work with that," he said at its conclusion.

"I thought so," Rayna said. "He seems like a sweetheart, and his management is great. I think you'll make a terrific team."

Bucky folded his hands on the table. "Since we released Scarlett from her contract, we've taken a financial hit. We spent a lot of money on her that won't give us a return. For this album, we're going to offer you a number, but it's less than last time." He pushed over a paper and pointed out the salary.

It was smaller than he would have liked, but he couldn't really afford to be picky. Plus, the opportunity was the real draw, and he knew Rayna and Bucky knew that. "Seems fair. Let's do it."

Bucky clapped his hands together. "I'll have the lawyers draw up the contract."

Avery noticed that while Rayna smiled, she played with her ring, turning it from side to side. She sat on the edge of her chair and looked off into the distance. This was not a happy woman.

"I'll book studio time and set up a meeting between you and Evan," Bucky said, gathering up his paperwork.

"Thank you so much," Avery said, shaking his hand. He turned to Rayna. "And you too, Ms. Jaymes."

"You know you can call me Rayna," she said, rising and coming back from wherever she was. She spoke softly to him so Bucky wouldn't hear. "I know you're going through a really hard time, and I appreciate you doing this."

Avery didn't say anything. Of course Rayna knew. Of course Juliette would have told her. But he couldn't bear the knowledge, even kindness, in her eyes, so he looked away. "I'm humbled by your confidence in me, and I won't let you down."

Rayna opened the door. "I know you won't. And I'll let you know about the lessons."

* * *

Juliette sat on her couch with stationary and a pen. She'd been there for twenty minutes, but every time she picked up the pen, she couldn't put anything on the paper. It mystified her – she wrote songs all the time, ever since she was a young teen. It's just a letter, she thought. She felt stirred up by her therapy session, brief as it was. She'd been honest but guarded with the therapist, a kind woman in her early fifties who had an office filled with potted plants and tasteful, dark furniture. Juliette wondered how many other country stars had passed through over the years.

Juliette guessed the real reason she was hesitating was because she hadn't spoken to Avery since that night. He'd written her, but she hadn't responded yet. Come on, she thought. He does it for you. You have to write him back. This can't be one-sided. She knew her letters would never be as beautiful as his, but she had to try. She clicked the pen and wrote his name.

* * *

Avery was still drinking his first cup of coffee in the morning when there was a knock at his door. "Avery, you home?"

Gunnar. Why did people always just show up at his door? Couldn't they ever call? He walked over and opened it to the sight of Gunnar in full athletic gear: a special moisture-wicking t-shirt, nylon pants, a headband, and what looked to be brand-new sneakers. "You look ridiculous, Scott. What, is Nike your sponsor for the tennis tour?"

Gunnar rolled his eyes. "When I do something, I do it all the way. And it's not tennis. I'm here to take you running."

Avery screwed up his face. "At this ungodly hour? And I don't run."

"First of all, it's ten a.m. Secondly, I think it would be good for you."

"I'm not really a sports guy."

"Which is why you should do this. Running is something you can do alone if you want, you don't need a team."

Avery gestured to the door. "Then it's perfect. You can go run all by yourself and leave me alone."

Gunnar looked at the floor. Avery's tone was still bitter. They hadn't talked since the night of the recovery benefit, when he'd forced him to tell the truth about what he and Zoe had been hiding. As soon as he'd confessed, Avery had taken off. He hadn't been answering his texts, and Gunnar was worried about him. He looked up and stepped closer to Avery. "Listen. No talking, no looking each other in the eye. Just movement, pounding the pavement, and getting out of this damn apartment."

Avery considered his options. Gunnar's explanation actually sounded pretty decent. "No talking?"

"None."

"All right, give me a minute to change."

They covered a three-mile loop around Avery's neighborhood. Gunnar took the lead, and Avery sometimes struggled to keep up; his friend's height gave him a longer stride, and he just seemed fitter. But even if Avery's breath was shallower and harder to catch, he had to admit that the running felt good. He wondered what it would be like to just keep on running and never stop.

When they wound their way back to Avery's building, he invited Gunnar upstairs for water. His heart was still pounding as he took two glasses from the cabinet and filled them from the tap. He handed one to Gunnar, who leaned against the wall. The question that had been on his mind for days just popped out of his mouth. "Why'd you let me do it, man?"

Gunnar squinted. "Do what?"

"You knew what had happened between Juliette and Jeff, and you let me go up on that stage and dedicate that song to her anyway."

Gunnar had been asking himself the same question. "I was really hoping that I'd never have to tell you. I was hoping that Juliette would tell you herself."

Avery set down his glass. "Did you lie to me because you and Zoe are going to be working with her now? That seems awfully opportunistic."

"We didn't lie."

"Yeah, you did. A lie of omission." Avery's chest tightened. "I thought you were my friends."

"We are." Gunnar looked at Avery, who seemed a little pale. "And are you okay? You're kind of wheezing."

Avery dismissed his concern with a wave. "Guess I'm out of shape. And don't change the subject."

Gunnar shook his head. "This whole thing is so crappy, and I'm sorry." He paused. "But I thought maybe you'd be more understanding, considering, you know, your history."

Avery's anger flared. "For the record, I didn't cheat on Scarlett. I walked away from it, even if it meant losing the only good opportunity I'd had."

"But you considered it. And you sure hopped into bed quick as soon as you broke up."

"I'm not talking about this with you." Gunnar always knew exactly where to poke at Avery's insecurities; there was too much history there.

Gunnar ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't come here to upset Avery. "Just answer this one question: Did you mean what you said in the song?"

Avery stopped in his tracks. "Of course I did."

"You wanted to tell her how much you love her. That's brave. That's nothing to be ashamed of."

* * *

Before Avery left for his shift at the Bluebird, he stopped at his mailbox in the lobby. One letter stood out from the rest: its envelope was a heavy weighted paper, and he recognized the feminine, looping handwriting immediately. It was from Juliette. He'd wondered if she'd ever write him back, if the letters he'd sent meant anything to her at all. He walked out to his truck and got in before opening it; he felt a little light-headed knowing she'd written him. He tore open the envelope and read.

Avery,

I've had a hard time trying to start this letter. I think writing makes me nervous. I know I write songs all the time, but those are kind of like poems or short ideas. I don't usually have to write anything longer than that. I think I'm kind of bad at this. You are so smart, you read a lot of books and you went to college. I barely got my GED, and that's only because Glenn made me. So I'm sorry if I mess up or spell words wrong.

I got your two letters. They were beautiful, like you are. I appreciate your honesty. I know you don't think much of yourself, but I do. Sometimes, I literally thought you were an angel sent down to help me. You picked me up again and again in my darkest hours, and I don't know if I've ever properly thanked you for that. In fact, I know I haven't. I repaid you with pain, and no matter how sorry I am, I know it won't be enough right now.

But I have taken a step in the right direction. I've begun seeing a psychologist. I had my first session today, and she told me something interesting. She said people sometimes get stuck in their minds at the age something traumatic happened to them. That they cling to what they were feeling back then, even if they've grown older. She also said that sometimes people get stuck at the age they were when they first became famous. Both of those things made a lot of sense to me. So am I four inside? Twelve? Fifteen? I honestly don't know.

I am committed to working on myself right now. I know I have to, or I'm just going to keep making the same mistakes over and over. I'm scared, but I'm more scared of spending the rest of my life alone.

You shared a story with me last time, so let me share one with you that's been on my heart lately:

I never knew how the drugs were going to affect her. Sometimes she was really angry and aggressive, pushing me, hitting me, telling me to do things like clean the bathroom or just get out of the house. Sometimes she was manic and paranoid, and I had to calm her down, tell her no one was watching us. But most of the time, she just went somewhere else, a place I didn't exist. I could be sitting right next to her and she wouldn't even know I was there. It was like being a ghost.

So when she showed up at my school one afternoon to pick me up, I was shocked. I was in the fifth grade, and I always took the bus, but there she was, waving at me. "Juliette!"

I ran up to her. "Mama. What are you doing here?"

"We're going on an adventure," she said with a gleam in her eye.

To any normal kid, that would be an invitation to something fun. But to me, it didn't sound good. Previously, an adventure sometimes meant driving to some shitty little town to find a new dealer.

"Come on," she said, shoving me towards her car.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?"

"Nuh-uh, baby. It's a surprise."

We drove for a while, and I watched her as she smoked and sang along to the cassette of Rayna's first album. She loved that tape. Her blonde hair blew back, and even though she was too thin, and had bags under her eyes, I still thought she was beautiful.

When we hit the outskirts of town, we drove up to a big field, and there I saw a fair. There was a Ferris wheel and games and food and animals in pens and everything. She drove up into the parking lot, which was a lot of dirt and dead grass. "How about we spend the evening here?" she asked.

I couldn't believe it. "We can't afford it," I said.

She smiled real big. "That's the other surprise. I hit five hundred dollars in a scratch-off, and we're going to spend it all here!"

For a second, I wanted to tell her about how maybe we could use that money to pay our light bill, or fix the leak in the bathroom. But I'd learned that happiness was fleeting, and if she was happy right now, I had to go along for the ride. "Okay, Mama."

"That's my girl." We raced out of the car to the fairgrounds.

While we were walking around, she stopped at a table for the local radio station. A big sign announced a karaoke contest. "Juliette, I'm going to sign you up."

"What?"

"You sing like a bird. I bet you could win." She asked the woman at the table for a form.

I grabbed her arm. "Mama, I can't sing in front of all these people."

She ignored me and filled out the paper. "My daughter has the prettiest voice," she told the woman. "She's going to impress you."

The woman handed me a book. "Pick out your song from here."

I flipped through the pages but I knew what I'd sing.

The contest was held in on a little stage near the pig pens. I was sick to my stomach, but Mama said that was just from the fried food and cotton candy I'd eaten. Lots of people got up to sing, and most of them were terrible. They were almost all adults and I think a lot of them were drunk. A woman stumbled off the stage, and then the DJ said, "Next up is a Miss Juliette Barnes."

Mama squeezed my arm. "Show them, baby. Make your Mama proud."

I walked up the stairs and stood next to the man. He handed me the mic and showed me how the words would show up on the screen. "Juliette is going to sing a Rayna James song, 'Already Gone.'" He smiled and stepped away.

I held onto that microphone for dear life. There were bright lights in my eyes so I could barely see, but I didn't need the words anyway. When the music started, I just opened my mouth and sang like I did at home when I thought no one was listening. Soon, I started hearing people cheering. My eyes got used to the lights, and I could see Mama in the crowd, singing with me. And something happened, Avery. Something filled me up in that moment. It felt like that was where I belonged. When I hit the final notes and the song finished, that crowd clapped and yelled so loud. I was shaking when I got off the stage.

Mama held my hand when they announced the winners. There was another girl, who looked sixteen, who was pretty good, too, and I was sure she would win. But then they called my name.

The DJ shook my hand and gave me a fifty-dollar gift certificate to a local restaurant. "You have a great voice, little lady. You should do this more often." And he handed me a business card. "Have your Mama call me. I know some people."

I nodded and left the stage. Mama came running up to me and wrapped me in a big old hug, lifted me up and spun me around. "I knew it! I knew it!" She laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound. "We need to celebrate!"

She dragged me over to the Ferris wheel, and we got on. We rose higher and higher into the air, and I remember the way the carnival lights looked so pretty from way up there. Everything below us looked so small. Mama wrapped her arm around me and shouted. "You hear me, Enterprise? You remember this day! My daughter's a winner! She's a winner!"

God, I miss her.

Juliette

Avery wiped away the tear that was running down his cheek. Juliette had lost so much in her life, and still she went on. And she was going to work on herself, even though it might hurt, even though it was hard.

She really was the bravest woman he'd ever known.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I really appreciate all of the wonderful replies to this story. It's good to know other people are enjoying this. Happy reading. (Oh, and I got my Team Avery shirt in the mail, and it's officially the best thing ever.)**

Gunnar sat nervously in one of the writing rooms at South Circle Music. He'd already tuned and retuned his guitar twice. He knew he shouldn't be nervous – he'd played for Kelly Clarkson, wrote songs with Luke Wheeler, had a number one – but this was different. He had to write with Juliette Barnes, the woman he'd seen sneaking out of the screening room with Jeff Fordham, the woman who'd broken his friend's heart. And, of course, she was now Zoe's employer. It was awkward for sure, and awkward was practically his middle name. Jason used to tell him that he had to work on his poker face, but that was the difference between them – Gunnar always wore his heart on his sleeve and his emotions everywhere else. His grandma used to call him a Mexican jumping bean when he was excited. Gunnar breathed in slowly and tried to calm himself.

Then Juliette walked up and knocked softly on the doorframe. "Hey, Gunnar."

He immediately popped up out of his chair to greet her and promptly knocked it over. It crashed to the floor loudly. "God, I'm sorry," he said, moving to right the chair and knocking his guitar against the piano bench.

Juliette smiled. "Easy, tiger."

The blush creeping up his neck quickly flooded his face. "I'm here every Tuesday night. Try the veal."

She chuckled and sat down. "I've always thought these writing sessions were a little weird, you know? Just throw people together and expect them to be creative."

"Sometimes unexpected combinations work and sometimes they don't." He took a good look at Juliette. She was dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt (although he thought they were probably expensive jeans), and her hair was up in a ponytail. Even though she wore makeup, she seemed a little pale, and her eyes were puffy. She didn't seem like a big star at that moment, more like a young woman who was sad.

They both sat there looking at each other until Juliette said, "No time like the present."

"Right." Gunnar played a G chord. "So, you have any ideas you want to work on?"

She reached into her large purse and pulled out a notebook. "Yeah, I do. I write lyrics and can hum melodies, but I don't play an instrument."

"Why's that?"

"My career took off really fast. I didn't have that period of playing open mike nights or small clubs. Never had to accompany myself."

"Must be great to have such top-notch players behind you, though."

Juliette looked wistful for a second, then serious. "You think you can help me with this?" She handed him the notebook.

Gunnar read the lyrics. The speaker was accusing someone of something, and the judgment was harsh. The words were full of anger and ugly, hateful remarks. Then, there was a turn in the chorus, and Gunnar realized the speaker was accusing herself. "Wow, Juliette. This is powerful. I think a lot of people feel this way about themselves."

"None more than me." She looked away. "I think there's a part of me that realizes I'm careening down the wrong path, but the other part happily cuts the break lines."

Gunnar tapped his hands on the side of his guitar. "We hurt ourselves because it's easier to deal with that pain than what's deeper."

Juliette tightened her ponytail. "I just really wish I'd stop breaking my own heart."

Gunnar held out his arm, excited. "There's your title!"

"'Breaking My Own Heart.'" She gave him a little smile. "I like it."

They began writing, Juliette humming what she heard in her head and Gunnar attempting to play it on guitar. They traded lyrics back and forth and sometimes Juliette would tease Gunnar if she thought something he suggested wasn't right. As they wrote, Gunnar relaxed. He hadn't been sure what to expect. He didn't know Juliette and what he did know – that she cheated on Avery – he didn't like. Yet spending time with her like this, he couldn't be judgmental. It seemed like this was the real Juliette, and Gunnar began to see what Avery must have seen in her.

"So when she's sitting alone at the bar, what happens next?" Gunnar asked.

"She leaves with the wrong man," Juliette said quietly.

Gunnar's face darkened and he tried to look away before Juliette could notice, but he wasn't fast enough. He could see the wheels turning in her mind.

"I remember you now. I remember."

"Remember what?"

"At the BMI party. It was you. You saw me and Jeff, and you told Avery."

Gunnar sighed. "I tried not to. I was hoping that you would. But I couldn't live with it. How could I keep something so huge from my friend?"

Juliette turned away from him, a wall going up fast.

"I'm sorry. I have a history of putting my foot in my mouth." Gunnar reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away and got out of her chair. She gathered up her notebook and purse.

"I have to go. I might try to finish this myself, but I'll call you to let you know." She walked briskly out of the room.

Gunnar exhaled. He'd blown that for sure, and he regretted upsetting Juliette. He was sure he wouldn't hear from her again.

* * *

Avery paced in the recording studio that Rayna had rented for the Rider sessions. They were meeting for the first time to lay down some initial tracks and try things out. This job held different implications: he wasn't recording Scarlett on the road, or working with Juliette in her private studio. Now, he was going to produce for someone he'd never met based on the recommendation of Rayna Jaymes. This album could either cement his reputation as a producer or prove he could only work with his friends. Avery checked the time on his phone. Rider and his manager would be in soon and the recording engineer half an hour later.

He rested his hands on the board and looked into the dimly lit vocal booth. He thought back to all of the time he'd spent recording what he thought would be his first album, working until all hours of the night with Dominic sometimes supervising remotely by phone. What had started off as exciting, even vindicating, quickly deteriorated into frustration when he realized that his music didn't matter at all. He was just a body to Dominic and Marilyn, a guy who looked decent and sang well enough to be a vessel for what they wanted, who could then be tossed aside when he was no longer useful. He still believed that, no matter what Juliette had said.

He couldn't get her out of his thoughts no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he told himself to stop. So she wrote him one letter. Big deal. It might not change anything. He didn't know what was worse: remembering the happy times they'd spent together in the past, imagining the future they might never have, or picturing her in the arms of Jeff Fordham, his hands all over her beautiful body, his lips on her lips –

Okay, that was definitely the worst.

The studio door burst open, and a couple of men sauntered in: a middle-aged guy in an expensive suit and shiny shoes, and a younger man in jeans, a blue button-down and a black cowboy hat. They dude had to be at least 6'3. "Mister Avery Barkley!" he said.

Avery stepped to shake his hand. "Evan Rider, nice to meet you." He had to look up to make eye contact.

"This is my manager, Jeb Crowley."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Avery said, shaking his hand.

"We heard a lot of good things about you from Rayna, Avery."

Evan got a quizzical look on his face. "Ain't Avery a girl's name?"

He frowned. "There are plenty of guys named Avery."

Evan broke into a grin. "I'm just playing with you, man. It fits you. You've got a metrosexual rocker vibe going on here," he said, gesturing to Avery's clothes.

Avery swallowed and set his jaw. His first impression of Evan was that he reminded him of jerks he'd grown up with in his little town, the ones who'd called him 'homo' or worse because he didn't like hunting or mudding or because he actually read books, even ones not assigned for class. He wasn't even gay – he couldn't imagine what that kind of abuse must be like for a man who actually was. But Avery knew he needed to get over whatever he thought; first impressions weren't always correct, and this was only business. He didn't have to like the guy to work with him.

"Let's get down to it," the manager said. "You got the demos of the songs?" He and Evan sat on a leather couch across from Avery's chair in front of the board.

"Yeah. They're a good group. I especially liked 'Queen of Saturday Night.' You've got a rockabilly influence I appreciate."

"Love Carl Perkins, God rest his soul," Evan said.

"I think we can play that up. It'd make you unique and set you apart from all the 'bro country' stuff out there now."

"Let's not rule anything out," the manager said.

"I mean, I'm not looking to be Dwight Yoakum here. I want to sell records," Evan said. "I've only got one shot to be a debut artist. I've got to be a rocket right out of the gate."

Avery ignored the mixed metaphor and continued. "Believe me, I understand your urgency. I'm going to do all I can to make this record great." He rose. "Dwight Yoakum is more Bakersfield. And he sold millions of records."

"I've been listening to songwriters' demos for other material."

"Good. We'll probably cut about forty songs and then narrow it down." He gestured behind him. "You want to see the studio?"

Evan got up and followed Avery. "This is really sweet," he said, letting out a low whistle. "Guess it's only the best for Rayna James." He was quiet a moment before speaking again. "I got everything riding on this. I can't fail."

Avery felt an echo of himself from a few years ago. "Look, Evan, I've got the same kind of pressure. Your album could make or break me. The music business is a roll of the dice. I'm just asking you to trust me here. This is totally a collaboration – I won't make you do anything you think isn't right. Your face is going on the album, not mine. But I know I can make you sound great and create art that will last."

"That's probably the first time somebody's called what I do art." He smiled at Avery and clapped him hard on the back, sending him forward a little. "Well, you're passionate. I appreciate that."

"Yeah," Avery said, rubbing the spot where Evan had got him. "Let's get started then."

* * *

Juliette walked up Deacon's steps slowly. The session with Gunnar still had her rattled and she wanted to talk to someone. She didn't get to see Deacon as often as she liked, but he always understood her in way most people couldn't. She valued his friendship. She couldn't believe she could count anyone her friend. She'd been so alone all her life, sometimes by circumstance and sometimes by choice. She hoped Deacon wouldn't mind her just showing up, but when she rang the bell, she heard that familiar thick Southern accent.

"I'm comin'," Scarlett called.

Juliette debated turning around and running but it was too late. Scarlett answered the door, her long blonde hair piled up on her head in a messy topknot.

"Hey. Is Deacon home?"

"Sorry. He stepped out. Was he expecting you?"

"No." Juliette said. "I'll just go then." She moved to leave, but Scarlett caught her arm.

"Juliette, wait. Would you stay a minute?"

"If you're just going to tear me down again, I ain't in the mood."

Scarlett winced. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about, if you'll let me." She pointed to Deacon's bench.

Juliette reluctantly sat down, and Scarlett joined her, drawing her feet up underneath her legs.

"I'm really glad you stopped by today. I've been meaning to talk to you. I didn't think you'd want a call from me, but that was probably me just bein' a coward." Scarlett touched Juliette on the arm. "I owe you a really big apology."

Juliette didn't say anything; she was too shocked.

"I've been in a bad place the past few months. No, I take that back. The past few months have been some of the worst of my life." She sighed. "I didn't want to be a performer. That was always Avery's dream, not mine."

Juliette noticed the territorial pang in her stomach when Scarlett said Avery's name. She didn't have a right to that anymore, and that feeling was what got her into this mess in the first place.

"I love music but I'm not meant for that life. But I got caught up in everything, and when that wheel started rolling, I didn't know how to stop it. I'm a people pleaser, so I couldn't say no. That's when I started making horrible decisions. You know I turned to amphetamines and alcohol, even knowing my family history."

"How long were you using?"

"Since January, when I started my album."

"I thought you were high a couple of times, but Avery insisted you weren't."

Scarlett looked down. "Well, I'd never done anything like that before, so he wouldn't have thought so. You had more distance." Scarlett's eyes teared up. "When my Mama surprised me on the road, it pushed me over the edge, as you know. I don't remember a lot from that time."

"Maybe that's for the best."

"Which brings me to my apology. When you came to see me, I wasn't in my right mind. I didn't know what had happened; all I knew was that I was sedated and shipped off to a mental hospital, just like the ones my Mama moved in and out of my whole childhood. I was scared and angry and you were the easiest target."

"Story of my life," Juliette said.

"It was wrong of me to take everything out on you. None of what happened was your fault. To be honest, if I hadn't been so jealous, I might have learned a lot from you."

Juliette turned her head. "Wait. You were jealous? Of me?"

Scarlett pushed a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. "You are a natural performer and you're so smart about the business. I'm just awkward and shy." She sighed. "And you got the best of him."

"You mean of Avery?"

"Yeah. The way he was with you reminded me a little of how he used to be before he got to Nashville, but even better. He matured and got his priorities straight. With me, he was demanding sometimes, or jealous and insecure. That is, if he thought of me at all. He was so focused on making it, he forgot about everything and everyone else." She looked off into the distance. "This is going to sound strange, but sometimes I think there's this voice in Avery's head, a mean one, that keeps driving him on, like he's got to prove something or not mess up. I think it wears on him, even if he seems fine, even if he'll never admit it."

Juliette pressed her lips together.

"But I'm sure you don't want to hear me talk about him. What I really want to know is if you'll forgive me. I'm sorry."

Apologies confused Juliette. Growing up, her mama's apologies only lasted for a few minutes. They were empty words, a formality. When people meant it, it was a whole different story. When was the last time someone apologized to her? Oh, yes, when Avery apologized for spending so much time with Scarlett during her crisis. That was the first time he'd told Juliette that he loved her. She felt sick to her stomach all over again – when would this stop? Scarlett was still looking at her expectantly. "Yes, I forgive you, Scarlett, although I wouldn't blame you for hating me after what went down between me and Avery."

"I went to see him after you broke up."

"He tell you why?" Juliette braced herself for the judgment in Scarlett's eyes.

"No, he never did, and I don't need to know. But I reminded him he's done things I know he's not proud of, that I'm sure he wishes he could change, and that the two of you are good together." Scarlett shifted her feet out and Juliette could see the bright blue polish on her toes.

"You said all that to him? I figured this would be the perfect time for you to take him back."

Scarlett laughed. "You think I want him back? Or that he wants me?"

"Y'all were so close. You were together three times."

Scarlett turned to Juliette. "Avery was my first love. He will always be special to me, but too much happened between us, and it just wasn't the same. The last time we were together, it was mostly because we were lonely and it was familiar."

Juliette blinked back tears. God, she was so wrong about them. Why did she always jump to conclusions and lash out? Why did she always assume the worst about people? She looked away. "Is there any hope for us?"

Scarlett spoke quietly. "Juliette, I was his partner for four years, so I think I know Avery pretty well. He's really hurting right now, and sometimes he can go to dark places, but I also think he's learned a lot about forgiveness in the last few years. I'm sure he's done some things that you weren't happy with either, but you'd rather forgive those things than lose him completely, right?"

"But he's as hot-headed and stubborn as me."

"That's why you work. In the end, I think I was too mellow for Avery. He's intense and needs a challenge."

That's me all right, Juliette thought. She looked at Scarlett, amazed they were having a civil conversation. A thought bubbled up. "You know, your songs are great, and I'm currently putting together my new album. You up for a co-write sometime?"

Scarlett squinted. "Really? With me?"

"Unless there's somebody else on this porch."

"I would love that. Writing is my heart."

Juliette nodded. "Thanks for this, and the advice about Avery. I know it's a weird situation."

"You know what hooked me on him the first day we met in poetry workshop?" Scarlett smiled. "Those sad blue eyes. Once he turned them on me, I knew I'd follow him anywhere."

* * *

When Juliette arrived home, she found another letter from Avery propped up on her counter. Emily must have done it, must have some idea by now of what was going on. She tore open the envelope and looked at the pages, waiting a second to savor the moment before she started reading.

Juliette:

Did you know I was homeless when I met you? Not the time at the Opry, but when I joined your tour as a roadie. I'd been crashing in one of those cheap motels for transients and other people with nowhere to go. I was down to my last two hundred dollars, and I needed that to make a payment on my storage unit. I was even contemplating sleeping there on the sly but they lock from the outside and the manager would see. I'd sold my old truck cheap, my cell phone was about to be shut off, I was way behind on my student loans and I hadn't had much to eat in days. There was no one I could call, even if I wanted to. All I had were plenty of regrets, my guitar, and a lot of time to think.

So I sang and played. I sang for all the people I'd hurt. Sang for the people that'd hurt me. Sang a funeral song for my illusions and selfish ambitions. Sang my regrets and apologies to God. I played until my fingers ran red with my blood. Filled my body with music instead of food.

When your tour manager called with the job offer, I treated it as the miracle it was. I took a series of Greyhound buses to join you in New York and I promised myself I would do things differently, that I'd _be_ different. I would start over and change my life.

You saved me, Juliette. Without that job, who knows where I would've ended up? You became a friend to me when I had none. I will always treasure that, no matter what happened later.

I've been thinking about this quote recently. It's by Roger de Bussy-Rabutin, a French author from the 1600s: "Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it inflames the great." I guess we'll see which category we fall into.

Juliette had to stop a moment to take that in. They always had fire between them, maybe too much.

She started reading again.

You wrote me a beautiful Mama story, so here's one for you:

We took one real vacation when I was kid, a trip to Virginia Beach when I was eight years old. (I don't count my father's hunting trips into the mountains around our home as vacation – the five of us squatting silently in the woods with rifles is not my idea of a good time.) I think my parents must have saved for two years to afford it. We drove for over nine hours in the truck, us three kids jammed in the extended cab in the back. I rode in the middle since I was the youngest, and my brother and sister pushed into me around corners. We sometimes fought until our father turned and screamed at us, then we were silent for hours.

I thought we'd never get there, but to pass the time, my mother told us stories about her childhood: running barefoot all summer, counting shooting stars until late in the evening, or about the time the pig her family had been raising escaped its pen, and it took four of them to bring it back, diving into the mud as it squealed and slipped away. She helped her father slaughter it later, and I'll never forget the way she described the blood gushing from the slit in its neck, the steam rising from the heat of its body.

When we finally arrived, the place teemed with people. It was hot and bright and loud. I think it made my father nervous because he barked at us more than usual: "Stay together. Eyes forward!" I remember my mother holding my hand so tight as we pushed through the crowds.

When we finally got to the beach, we walked up over the boardwalk and the Atlantic opened up before us. It was the first time I'd ever seen the ocean. My brother and sister started screaming, but I trembled. I'd seen the ocean in books and on television, but the enormity of it, its power and sound, hit me hard. My mother smiled down at me, her blonde braid practically glowing in the sun.

When we found a spot to sit, my siblings dumped everything and raced down to the water in their bathing suits, laughing and shouting. My father turned to me. "Come on, Avery."

I wouldn't budge. I don't know exactly why to this day – maybe it was something like fear mixed with reverence.

My father got a confused look on his face. "Don't tell me you're scared." I could barely look up at him, the sun was so bright.

I was always a disappointment to him: too small, too sickly. A son who wasn't hardly a son, at least by his standards.

I felt my mother's hand on my shoulder. "You go with the others, hon. We'll be along."

He shook his head then ran after my sister and brother. I saw them all leap into the surf, then bob in the strong waves.

"Faster ain't always better, you know." She placed a gentle hand on my back. "Come on, I'll walk with you."

We picked our way past all the people sitting in chairs and stretched out on blankets until we were standing on the edge of the shore. The sand, much cooler now, squished beneath our toes. "Isn't it beautiful, Avery?"

I nodded but couldn't speak. The tide rushed up under our feet, and the water was cold. Little waves crashed before us like a carpet unrolling and unrolling.

She crouched down and pointed. "Here's the secret: you don't have to be afraid of the waves. Most of the time, you can jump right over them. Sometimes you can ride them, and sometimes you get knocked over, but that's okay. You'll surface. And I'm going to be right here holding your hand until you let me know it's okay to let go." Her smile was brilliant. She stood up and we both faced the ocean. "Here's a good one," she said. "You ready?"

I nodded and held my breath.

"Okay, one, two, three – jump!"

Avery

Lord, the boy could write.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm nervous about this chapter, but I felt there were things that needed to be addressed in Juliette's past, things that have been alluded to on the show that give us deeper insight into her character. That didn't make this any easier to write, but I think it was necessary.**

* * *

The Bluebird buzzed before Deacon's set at nine. The crowd that waited patiently in the strip-mall parking lot now streamed in and the drink orders started. Avery carried in another case of bottled beer and placed it behind the bar. He'd just finished changing all the mics from the songwriter in the round format to Deacon's stage. Though he felt tired from working on Evan's album during the day and the club at night, he didn't mind. Hard work never bothered him. He'd worked enough construction to last him a lifetime. He was just happy to be around music in any capacity.

Scarlett zipped behind the bar. "Right behind you!" she called and dug underneath. "Where are the extra napkins? Table three had a spill."

Avery grabbed a bunch and handed them to her. He saw that Deacon's band was all set to play, but he wasn't there yet. It was five to nine. "Deacon's cutting it close tonight," he said.

"Guess so." She ran to her table.

"Avery, can you grab me another bottle of Jack?" the bartender asked.

"On it." Avery hustled to the back room and quickly found the bottle. He liked being busy; it gave him less time to think. Although he felt better than he had recently, he was cautious not to get too far ahead of himself. That was the funny thing about a broken heart – sometimes it felt like he was healing, then it split right open again.

On his way back to the bar, Erika, the general manager and owner, stopped him. "Do you know where Deacon is?"

"No. It's not like him to be this late. Hope he's okay."

"It's just about nine. We can't really wait." She glanced out at the room. "Avery, how about you go up and sing a couple until he gets here?"

"Really? It's a sell-out."

"You can handle it. I'll go and introduce you." She headed for the stage before Avery could even say yes. Okay, what would he sing? He didn't have his guitar so it looked like a piano night. He dashed to the sound board to make a few adjustments.

"Welcome to the Bluebird Café," Erika said, and the crowd clapped then quieted. "Deacon Claybourne should be here in minutes, but we have a special opening act for you. Please welcome the Bluebird's own sound engineer, Mr. Avery Barkley."

The applause was polite as Avery took the stage. He motioned to Deacon's piano player that he needed the instrument then sat down. "Thanks. This is 'Let There Be Lonely.'" As he played and sang, Avery could almost take a step outside of himself and watch. It often amazed him that he'd gotten this far, so distant from the stage of his little Catholic school in Ohio where he'd played for the first time. Music was the one thing he'd gotten right in his life, and even though he'd taken a lot of detours, he still loved performing. Maybe it was time to look for a few solo gigs again.

He kept an eye out for Deacon but he still wasn't there. Avery pressed the sustain pedal for the last few notes, then started into "How You Learn to Live Alone." He hadn't played the two songs back to back before, and the theme of loneliness running through struck him. Remnants of his pre-Juliette life. She really was the best friend he'd had in a long time, and he missed talking to her, even about little things. When he sang the word 'alone,' he saw Juliette's tear-stained face begging him not to make her be alone again. The memory hit him square in the chest every time. As the song neared its conclusion, Avery poured that pain into every note. His voice strained on the final line and he took his hands off the keys.

Normally, you could hear the clink of glasses and silverware at the end of songs, or people sighing or coughing. Avery didn't hear anything. He was afraid to look up. Then the applause started, long and loud. He peeked out of the corner of his eye at the appreciative crowd, and saw Deacon standing in the back clapping too.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Deacon Claybourne," Avery said and left the stage.

Deacon smiled at him, his guitar slung on his back. He walked across the small room and gave Avery a hug. "How am I supposed to follow that?"

Avery whispered to Deacon. "Um, you missed a button on your shirt. It's uneven."

Sure enough, one side of Deacon's collar was higher than the other, and one tail of his shirt hung lower. Deacon looked down and smiled. "So it is," he said and took the stage. "Another big hand for Avery Barkley for saving my ass this evening."

Avery made his way back to the sound board. Then he noticed someone peeking out from the back. It was Rayna, looking distinctly rumpled. Her famously perfect hair looked a little tangled and her lipstick was smeared. She smiled at Deacon and seemed a million times happier than when he'd last seen her. And where was her ring?

Rayna and Deacon had been to hell and back for decades, yet something kept pulling them together despite everything that should keep them apart. Avery watched them watching each other and decided that there had to be more hope than hell in the world.

* * *

Juliette smelled popcorn when she opened her front door. "Hello?"

"It's just me," Emily called from the living room.

Juliette found her propped up by pillows on the couch. On the coffee table sat the popcorn, cheese and crackers, a bottle of red wine and two glasses. "Ain't you supposed to be spending time with your boyfriend?"

"On the road," Emily said. She'd recently begun dating a drummer in an up-and-coming band. "I thought we needed a girls' night."

Juliette sank onto the couch and kicked off her heels. "That sounds good."

"Let's get you some of this," Emily said, pouring a glass of wine for Juliette. She handed it to her and then poured one for herself.

Juliette took the glass and sipped, but something didn't taste right, which was strange. It was her favorite vintage. She put the glass down. She thought maybe it was a reaction to what her therapist said earlier about how she turned to binge drinking to numb her anxiety instead of dealing with it. It had been a difficult session: the therapist wanted to discuss Juliette's past, and Juliette resisted her at every turn.

Emily noticed Juliette wasn't drinking. "Is it a bad bottle? Should I open another one?"

"No, it's fine. Guess I'm not in the mood."

"You?"

"Yes, Emily."

"Sorry."

Juliette rubbed her eyes. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just so tired lately." That was only part of it, of course, but she never had to explain herself to Emily. Juliette had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. After her therapy session she'd been upset, so she'd driven out to her land by the river to sit and think, but somehow that turned into writing a letter to Avery. She went straight to the post office after to mail it, almost without thinking. Now she regretted it. What would he think of her after he read it? If a man truly knew her past, he would turn and run, so why did she just reveal something so ugly and painful from that time to Avery? The answer was simple: because she trusted him. The real question was if he would ever trust her again.

"You feeling okay?" Emily asked. "You don't seem like yourself."

"I'm fine." Juliette pointed to the TV. "Let's watch something funny and mindless. No romances."

Emily nodded. "Sounds good. _Hot Tub Time Machine_ it is."

* * *

Avery held his phone between the crook of his neck and his shoulder as he entered his apartment building. "Mike, you're one of the best steel players I know. This guy could break big and you'll get to say you played on his debut. Look, just check your schedule and let me know." Avery put down the grocery bags in his hands to hang up the phone. Producing was just as much about planning and paperwork as music: he had to find the session musicians, coordinate schedules, put holds on songs at publishing houses. He had multiple responsibilities to juggle, but he didn't mind.

He took out his keys to open his mailbox. He found that familiar envelope from Sallie Mae for his student loans and one more. It was from Juliette. Her handwriting looked rushed, sloppy.

When he got into his place, Avery quickly put away the milk and perishables and left the rest for later – he had to read her letter now. He sat on his couch and opened the envelope. The paper was clearly ripped from her songwriting notebook:

Avery, I'm so angry right now. The therapist keeps insisting I talk about my mother and her "neglect." I don't see what the point is. I got good at keeping everything under wraps. I had to protect her, and I guess I still want to, even if she didn't protect me.

She had this one boyfriend, a big, loud biker guy that supplied her with meth. Before I knew it, he had moved in and things went from bad to worse. There was hardly any food around, everything reeked like chemicals, and people were in and out of the trailer at all hours of the day and night. The party never stopped.

Then this young guy started hanging around. I think he was the biker's cousin or nephew or something. His name was Patrick. He told me he was twenty-six, that he could fish with his bare hands, that he'd just gotten out of prison for a crime he didn't commit, and that I was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

I figured out quickly that the more attention I gave Patrick, the more stuff he gave me. He brought home chicken or ribs and he always let me go first. He took me for rides on his motorcycle. I sat behind him and he told me to hold on tight, so I did, leaning my cheek onto his back and laughing as we barreled around corners. He shouted as we sped up. "That's my girl – ain't scared of nothing." He took me to the mall and bought me outfits. I tried them on to model for him. When I wore a black crop top with jean shorts, he'd whistled. "Damn girl, you are sexy." I gave him my biggest smile, and later, a lot more.

The party was extra loud that night. Heavy metal blared from the stereo and the air was smoky. I'm pretty sure a guy was trying to freebase cocaine until the biker kicked him out. Mama sat in the biker's lap talking loudly with her friends and taking hits off a pipe. Just what it was I don't know.

Patrick kept giving me wine coolers. "They taste like cherry soda," I said, and I knew I was getting buzzed. The room seemed softer at the edges. He kept kissing my neck and I'd squirm away a little. I know Mama saw us but she didn't say anything. She was too high to care.

"Oh gorgeous girl, don't you like me?" Patrick asked, twirling my hair in his fingers.

"Of course I like you," I said, scooting closer.

"Then why won't you show me?" He pouted and gave me puppy-dog eyes, even though they were blood-shot. "Maybe another girl would."

My heart squeezed with fear. He was the only bright spot in my shitty life, the only one who'd taken an interest in me, who cared if I'd eaten or had new shoes. He bought me CDs and said someday I'd be a star. I couldn't lose him. I stood up and took his hand. "Come on."

Avery, do you remember on the first night we made love, the way you took my clothes off so slowly, like you were unwrapping the most precious gift in the world? I'd never felt so cherished in my life.

He got dressed in the dark and stumbled out of my room. I pulled the blankets up and tried to decide if this made me a woman, if I felt different.

It wasn't until later that I realized the possible consequences of what happened. He hadn't used protection. What if he'd given me a disease? What if I'd gotten pregnant? It wasn't that far-fetched. I started worrying and there was no one to talk to about it, not even Patrick, who'd violated his parole and was back in prison. I was on my own, again.

I came up with a plan. It seemed like it would work based on TV shows I'd seen. I might not be able to do anything about diseases, but I could handle the other thing.

Sarah Leigh Williston was the biggest, meanest girl in school. She'd punch you out for cutting her in the lunch line or for bumping into her in the hallways. It seemed like anything could set her off and I counted on that.

It was after school had let out. I saw her walking alone. I was waiting on the lawn, and when the time was right, I threw a rock at her. It hit her right in the neck. She whirled around to see me glaring at her.

"What'd you do that for?" she asked. For a second, I thought I saw tears in her eyes.

"'Cause you're fat and ugly. Why don't you do the world a favor and disappear?"

The cruel words did the trick. She pounced on me, knocking me backwards. We wrestled on the ground, and I grabbed a hunk of her hair and pulled. She didn't even flinch, but just kept pounding me. I made a big show of trying to protect my stomach so she batted away my hands and hit me there. We rolled in the dirt until she got to her feet and gave me a huge kick. "You ever _look_ at me again, Barnes, and you're dead. You hear me?"

I nodded, unable to breathe. I watched her dirty sneakers walk away before I lifted my head.

When I got home, Mama wasn't there, which suited me fine. I went into the bathroom and spit out the blood pooling in my mouth. I could barely stand upright, but I'd done it, bought myself a brutal insurance policy. I looked at myself in the mirror, at the bruises already showing up, the bloody streaks near my hairline. I saw it then, in my eyes: now I was a woman.

Juliette

The pages fell from Avery's hands. He ran into the bathroom and threw up.

* * *

Zoe stood onstage staring out into the cavernous rehearsal space. She couldn't believe where she was – how could a girl from First Baptist be on stage with a huge star? This was Zoe's first major tour; hell, her first major anything.

She'd been obsessively listening to all of Juliette's albums for weeks now, trying to study her parts. She was surprised sometimes by how something simple sounding was actually complex harmonically. Though she could read music, most of her knowledge was instinctive and by osmosis, which usually served her well, at least until today.

Juliette stood at the front, running through "Telescope," working the stage like the pro she was when she whirled around. "Rookie!" She pointed right at Zoe. "You're coming in late in the chorus. Pay attention!"

Zoe nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am. Let's take it from the top," she said, eyes still locked on Zoe before abruptly turning.

Zoe pushed her hair back and took a deep breath. Gunnar had told her a little about his writing session with Juliette, and how she'd figured out he was the one who'd seen her with Jeff and told Avery. Zoe knew that Juliette knew she was Gunnar's girlfriend, and of course she'd seen the three of them performing at the Bluebird. She couldn't help but wonder if Juliette might be taking a little anger out on her.

Juliette's other backup singer, Gretchen, turned to Zoe. "Juliette's a task master because she's a perfectionist. You'll get used to it."

"Thanks." Zoe watched Juliette and had another thought. Maybe Juliette thought that Zoe was judging her for what she'd done. Of course, that was the last thing Zoe would do. She'd made too many of her own mistakes. But Zoe knew she'd never be able to say any of this to Juliette, so she just hoped whatever awkwardness between them would pass quickly.

Juliette stopped the song a few more times, once to correct a lighting tech about her spotlight, another to talk to the bass player. It was clear she was the boss, and Zoe admired her attention to detail. She did all of this while also moving through some complicated new choreography that had her crisscrossing the stage several times.

Then, after about two more run-throughs, Juliette slowed down. She held a hand to her head to wipe away sweat as she tried to sing, but the line "you left your troubles in my head" came out as gibberish. Then her eyelids fluttered and she passed out flat on her back.

The music stopped abruptly. The lead guitarist dropped to his knees to attend to her and Zoe saw Juliette's bodyguard, assistant and manager rush to her side. "Get the doctor!" Glenn called.

The rest of the band and crew stood around helplessly. Soon the doctor ran to the stage. Zoe couldn't see what he was doing. Eventually the bodyguard helped Juliette sit up but she still had trouble keeping her eyes open. A stretcher arrived and her bodyguard placed Juliette on it carefully. Zoe held her breath as it passed. Juliette looked pale and small. "We'll take her to Vanderbilt," the doctor said to Glenn.

Glenn stopped to address the stage. "Obviously we're done here. I'll let you know more later," he said, then walked quickly to catch up with the EMTs.

Zoe and the other band members stowed their equipment and walked backstage to leave. She slipped away from the others and reached into her purse for her phone. She found a quiet corner, dialed, and prayed he'd pick up. She didn't want to get into Juliette's personal business but she thought he should know.

"Avery? It's Zoe. Listen, something's happened with Juliette."

* * *

Juliette lay on the bed in ER room number eight. She'd started to come to during the ambulance ride and she insisted to the EMTs that she was okay; she'd just gotten overheated under all those lights, that she was just tired. They wouldn't listen to her and brought her in. She had to get evaluated by a doctor, give a urine sample and have blood drawn. The doctor thought she was dehydrated so a nurse had started IV fluids. Juliette watched it drip from the bag into the tube. Glenn was off making phone calls, no doubt dealing with the chaos she'd caused at rehearsal. Juliette felt embarrassed that they'd seen her that weak. She didn't want _anyone_ to see her like this: when Glenn said Emily and Bo were coming, Juliette told him to send them home. She blew a piece of hair out of her eyes. She just wanted to go.

A doctor came in the room. She wore blue scrubs and a white lab coat. "How are you feeling, Juliette?"

"Like I've been telling you people, I'm fine and I'd like to leave."

The doctor sat in a chair beside the bed. "When was your last menstrual period?"

Juliette had to think. "I guess it was about two and a half months ago. I'm on that pill where you only have it four times a year."

The doctor nodded. "Well, all your bloodwork came back fine, but there was a positive result from your urine test."

Juliette's heart started to pound. "And?"

"And you are pregnant."

She couldn't speak for a moment. All of her muscles refused to move.

The doctor spoke softly. "I infer that this wasn't planned."

Juliette couldn't look at her; she stared straight ahead. "No. How did this happen? I'm on the pill for a reason."

"The pill can be made less effective for a lot of reasons, including medication interactions like antibiotics." She flipped through the chart in her hands. "Any symptoms like nausea or tiredness?"

The walls were starting to fall in on her. "Yes. I thought it was just stress." She hung her head. "Do you know how far along?"

The doctor closed the chart. "You'll have to go to your ob/gyn to know officially, but I'm thinking about eight weeks." She rose and patted Juliette on the arm. "You need to follow up with your doctor whatever you decide. In the meantime, you'll get one more bag of fluids. The nurse will be in soon."

Juliette reached out and grabbed the doctor's arm. "No one can know about this. Who else has access to my records?"

"Patient privacy is of the utmost importance to us, and we follow the HIPAA laws to the letter. You don't have to worry." She smiled. "Right now, just try to rest." She opened the door and left the room.

Eight weeks. The words echoed in Juliette's mind, condemning her. It had been eight weeks since she'd last been with Avery. And with Jeff. Oh God. It could be either of theirs.

You are a fucking piece of trash, she thought. Pregnant, unmarried and you don't even know who the father is. Everything everyone predicted about you back home came true. You whore. She curled up into herself and the IV needle burned in her arm but she didn't care. She wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come. That was okay; she couldn't be emotional about this. She had some serious thinking to do, and she needed to do it fast.

* * *

Avery burst through the ER doors, panting. He'd just run down multiple flights of stairs in the parking garage. He had been leaving Rayna's house after Daphne's piano lesson when Zoe called. As soon as she'd told him what happened, he'd taken off and sped across the city, praying no cops would stop him, praying Juliette would be okay.

The receptionist sitting behind the desk eyed him. "Can I help you?"

Avery approached the desk and spoke quietly. "I'm here to see someone. Her name is Juliette Barnes."

"And you are?"

"Avery Barkley. I'm her boyfriend." It just slipped off his tongue – he didn't know if it was a lie or not.

"I can't confirm if she's a patient."

Avery understood this woman was only doing her job, and he appreciated she was protecting Juliette's privacy, but he just had to see her. "Please. She's expecting me." _That_ was a lie.

The woman motioned to the chairs in front of her. "You can have a seat," she said, but just then, Glenn emerged from inside the unit to the waiting room.

"Avery?"

The receptionist turned to Glenn. "Mr. Goodman, this man is claiming to be Ms. Barnes' boyfriend. Is that true?"

The older man's demeanor softened as he looked at the younger's obvious distress. "Yes."

The receptionist promptly filled out a visitor's sticker and gave it to Avery to wear.

"Come on," Glenn said. "I'll take you to her."

"Thank you," Avery said.

"Listen, she's okay. Probably just dehydrated."

Avery exhaled. "Thank God."

When the doors to the unit closed behind them, Glenn asked, "So how'd you hear they brought her here?"

"Juliette's new backup singer, Zoe, is a friend of mine. She called me. Don't tell her that."

"I won't." He stopped in front of Juliette's door. "Avery, I know the two of you split up, but I'm sure she'll be glad you're here. Hell, I'm glad you're here." He squeezed Avery's upper arm.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Glenn knocked and opened Juliette's door. "Look who I found outside," he said.

Avery saw Juliette curled up on the bed staring at the wall. She didn't even turn. "Hey, Juliette," he said softly.

Juliette's head whipped around at the sound of Avery's voice. She looked terrified.

"I'll leave you two," Glenn said, slipping out.

Juliette stared at Avery for a long minute. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I heard you passed out at rehearsal and I came right away." He almost couldn't believe he was looking at her, talking to her in person. It had been weeks. He stepped closer. Something wanted to draw his body to hers; it was chemical, molecular.

"And how did you find out?"

"Somebody in the band told me."

Juliette scoffed. "You have Zoe spying on me now?"

"No, it's not like that." He moved to her side, but she shifted away from him on the bed. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. They think I had a stomach bug which made me dehydrated and I just pushed myself too hard at rehearsal." Sometimes she still amazed herself at how easily she could lie, how quickly the words rolled out.

"That's you. Hardest worker I know." He sighed. "I'm so glad you're okay. I about killed myself rushing over here."

Juliette looked up at Avery. She saw simultaneous worry and relief in his eyes. She couldn't believe he was here. It was like he always knew when she was in trouble, could sense it on the wind or something. She couldn't deny the connection, and it was one she had to sever for good.

"Don't put yourself out for me," she said.

Avery knew something wasn't right, but how could it be after what had happened between them? She just looked so lost. It was time to be honest. "I've missed you."

Juliette almost choked on his words. "Why? I'm the one who cheated, remember?"

"I know. But you're still my best friend, and I missed talking to her."

Juliette closed her eyes. She'd thought it all out, went over the possible scenarios. The baby could be either his or Jeff's. If it was his, she knew he wouldn't abandon her, but she'd be trapping him into a life he didn't want and a child that he wasn't ready for. Even if they didn't get back together, they'd be tied forever, shuttling a kid back and forth, one who knew her parents didn't love each other anymore. If it was Jeff's, Avery would probably try to convince her to keep it, maybe even help her raise it. But as the child grew up, he'd resent having a permanent reminder of her affair with a man he despised. She'd have to deal with Jeff for the rest of her life. Maybe Jeff would try to take the baby away. He'd tell him how his mother was unstable and didn't love him, poison him against her. Not to mention the fact that she'd be a terrible mother no matter what happened. The only solution she could see was abortion. Just get rid of it, never think about it again. But she'd never tell Avery. And if she could never tell him, she could never be with him. She wouldn't be able to look him in the eye ever again. "Just who are we kidding here?" she asked.

"What?"

Juliette opened her eyes. They were cold and hard. "Avery, I've had a lot of time to think, and me and you? It's never going to work."

"You don't know that," he said.

"I screwed up and I hurt you too much. You'll never be able to get past it."

"I think that's for me to decide," Avery said, rising. Panic started building in his muscles.

I have to crank this up, she thought. "No. I can see miles down the road that you can't. Even if we got back together, you'd always doubt me. And I'd give you reasons to doubt me. I don't know if I even believe two people can stay together long-term."

"They can. I mean, people aren't perfect but they can change. I've changed."

"Good for you. I haven't." She faked a laugh. "I thought I wanted to be with somebody normal, a nobody, but that obviously didn't work."

"Excuse me?" Avery couldn't believe what she'd just said.

"I need more than pizza and beer on Friday nights. You're the one who insisted we have an equal relationship, but let's be honest: that ain't never gonna happen, honey."

The woman before him wasn't the same one who'd written him two achingly vulnerable letters recently. Maybe that was it. "Is this about your last letter? It broke my heart. Because that wasn't your – "

Juliette cut him off. "Forget I ever wrote that. Burn it." She ran a hand through her hair and winced when she hit a tangle. "You see, you think a few stupid letters about our past is going to change things. I know it won't."

Avery's mind ricocheted quickly. "Is this an act? Did they tell you you have cancer or something and you're pushing me away so I won't get hurt?"

He was half right. "No, I'm not dying, but I bet you wish I was sick. Then you could swoop in to the rescue. I bet you wish you had been there today to carry me off the stage just like you did for Scarlett." She let the bitterness in her voice make it stronger. "Do you get off on being the hero? On helping the poor, weak girl? That's how we got together, right? When I lost everything, you were the only thing left. Made you look better in comparison."

Avery's head was spinning but the anger was clearing it fast. "I think you better stop talking."

"Why? The truth hurt, buddy? You love my damage, not me. You know, I think you're overcompensating. You're pretending to be the big, strong man your father wanted you to be. Your life was just _so_ hard. Daddy didn't love you. Boo-hoo."

Juliette knew she'd hit him in the right spot. Avery's eyes grew impossibly wide and filled with tears. One fell without him blinking. She never knew how he could do that. It freaked her out.

"Who are you?" His voice was strangled.

"This is the real me. The fact that you asked means you never knew me at all."

"I guess not. The woman I loved would never have been this cruel." Avery gripped the wall. He was having trouble breathing. He forced himself to hold onto the hot, burning stone of his anger. It would be the only way to get him out of here alive. He groped for words, but could only come up with a cliché. It would have to do. "You listen to me." He looked directly into Juliette's eyes. "Someday, when you have a quiet moment and you look back on your sorry, empty life, you'll realize you lost the best thing that ever happened to you." He turned and staggered from the room.

Juliette grabbed her pillow and sobbed into it. I know baby, she thought. I know.


	6. Chapter 6

Avery limped through his duties at the Bluebird. He adjusted the mics on stage, his movements robotic, automatic. It was amazing how the body could carry on even when the mind was howling in pain. All he wanted was to find some dark hole to crawl into, but his legs kept walking, his hands kept busying themselves with the equipment. It had to be a survival instinct. His eyes grazed the scene around him: the staff scurried to get ready for a private event, a showcase for a new singer. Scarlett had the night off and Avery was grateful for that. He didn't want her to see him like this. He wouldn't have the patience to answer her questions.

He hadn't slept in over a day. Every time he tried to close his eyes, he saw Juliette in that hospital bed, dismissing everything he'd ever done for her as pathological, sick. It hadn't been like that; he loved her. That was his only motivation, but evidently she hadn't seen it that way. She couldn't trust him. She'd confirmed everything he'd always feared: that he wasn't good enough for her. That the love he thought they'd shared was an illusion. That whatever pain he felt over his father's behavior when he was growing up was weak and immature.

But he also couldn't help but think about her letter, about the men that had abused her when she was a child. It made him sick. How could he reconcile the young woman who'd been hurt so badly with the cold, hard person who'd cut him to pieces?

When he walked back to the soundboard, he bumped into his co-worker, Brett. "Watch where you're going, man," Brett said.

Avery grunted his apology. "Sorry."

"I hate these showcase things," Brett said. "Especially because it's for Edgehill."

Avery raised his head abruptly. "Edgehill?"

"Yeah. I swear everyone who works there is a jerk. It's like a requirement for employment."

Avery gripped the sides of the board. This only meant one thing: Jeff Fordham would be in the same room with him tonight. This had to be a test from the universe. Avery was sure he would fail.

The place filled up with people and Avery kept a careful watch of the doors. He wanted to know exactly when Fordham walked in. The front door opened and a blonde young man dressed in jeans and a black leather jacket walked in, followed by an older woman in a green dress. She wore bright red lipstick and her dark hair was pulled back. Avery's body jumped in recognition: it was Marilyn.

At just that moment, her gaze turned to the back of the room and she saw him. They stared at each other in shock for a second before she looked away. "Things just keep getting better and better," Avery said under his breath. He noticed how her arm was crooked onto the young man's as she took him around the room to introduce him to the guests. Was it weird that the guy kind of reminded him of himself? He was young, handsome, and looked like he was too cool for the room, smiling at people but with an air of arrogance, like he was above it all. Shit. Marilyn definitely had a type.

Avery had to help the bartender and fetched another set of glasses from the back. When he returned, he saw Jeff Fordham standing across the room, shaking hands and laughing with someone. Avery shoved the glasses at the bartender. "Here. I've got to fix something," he said, motioning to the board. He walked over and crouched down behind the equipment, pretending to look at some of the cables.

"Hello, Avery," she said.

Avery looked up to see Marilyn standing next to his equipment. "Marilyn," he said slowly, rising.

"I must admit I was surprised to see you here. Last I'd heard you played guitar for Juliette Barnes."

"We collaborate sometimes."

Marilyn smiled. "I saw when she was inducted into the Opry. So you wrote that song together?"

"Yes, we did."

"It was quite a fuck-you to the country music establishment that had promoted her, don't you think?" She gestured to him. "But she couldn't have asked for a more experienced collaborator. You're quite good at flipping off those who've helped you."

Avery smiled bitterly. "I guess so. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Marilyn clicked her tongue. "Do you know how much you embarrassed me in front of Dominic? I tried to tell you about him but you wouldn't listen."

Avery stared her down. "Who introduced me to him in the first place? It was never about my music and we both know it."

Marilyn ran her gaze up and down his body and Avery could almost feel it physically. "But you were always so," she paused, "willing."

Avery wanted get away from her as fast as he could, but she had him cornered. "You took advantage of my desperation, just like with all the other guys before and after me. I'd bet anything you're screwing this one, too."

She smiled at him. "It could have been you up there, your first album coming out, all of the fans, the accolades and the awards. Instead you're back here, hauling cases of beer and coiling microphone cords, going exactly nowhere."

After the last thirty hours he'd had, Avery was in no mood. "Get out of my way," he said, pushing past her.

"It was so lovely to see you, Avery," she called after him.

Avery felt like he needed a shower. He walked into the storeroom to cool off.

Brett ducked his head in the room after a few minutes. "Avery, they're ready to start. Jeff Fordham's going to do the introduction."

Joy. "I'll be right there." He ran a hand over his face and returned to the main room. Jeff Fordham was standing next to the stage. Avery approached him. "Use the main mic," he said, pointing.

Jeff's grin spread wide across his face. "Avery Barkley. How's it going, man?" He held out his hand for a shake, but Avery wouldn't take it. He bit his tongue, literally, to keep from saying anything to the asshole and walked to the back of the room.

Jeff took the stage. "Hey, everyone. Thank you so much for coming out to our showcase for Brandon Jones." He picked up the mic from the stand and walked with it, as Avery had counted on. "We think this young man has a very bright future in country music and I'm sure he's going to make himself – and us – millions." He walked close to one of the speakers, and when he spoke again, Avery cranked the level on his mike. "I remember," he said before a loud blast of feedback shot through the room, making everyone jump and cover their ears, Jeff included. He glared at Avery who just gave him an innocent smile and shrug.

Jeff cleared his throat. "I remember when Marilyn brought Brandon in to play for me. I knew her instincts were dead on. This kid is a star." He looked at Brandon. "We're expecting great things." He motioned him to the stage. "Please make welcome our newest Edgehill Republic recording artist, Mr. Brandon Jones!"

Jones took the stage and gave Jeff a kind of fake hug and they clapped each other on the back. "Thanks, Jeff," he said before he picked up his guitar. "What an honor to get to play for the first time at the Bluebird. So many legends have crossed this stage."

Avery started tuning out the performance, although he kept a close eye on the sound levels. It was song after song about pickup trucks, summer, drinking beer and pretty women. He wouldn't be surprised if Jones had popped out fully-formed from some country music cliché assembly line. The audience hooted and cheered for each song. During a ballad, Avery noticed Marilyn talking to Jeff. They were seated at the same table and she motioned for Jeff to come closer while she whispered in his ear. Then they both turned to look at Avery and Jeff raised an eyebrow at him. Fuck. Avery knew exactly what she was telling him.

Mercifully, the showcase ended after an hour. "Thank y'all so much!" Jones said and left the stage. He started shaking hands and taking photos with the crowd. Avery concentrated on powering down the equipment. He could see Jeff sauntering towards him.

"Quite a show, huh?" Jeff said.

"Quite."

"Nashville is such a small town for a big city. I had no idea Marilyn used to be your manager."

"That was a long time ago."

"You know, I was there for your performance at the benefit for Sober House. That song was really touching. You're talented."

It killed him to know that Jeff was there to hear him profess his love for Juliette. Fordham must have been gloating then just like he was now.

"Marilyn could've helped you a lot. Why'd you throw that opportunity away? You might have hit it big." Jeff smiled, and Avery thought it made him look like a lizard.

"I decided my integrity meant more to me than being famous or making a lot of money. Unlike you."

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it takes a lot of integrity to trade sexual favors for representation."

Avery's blood surged and he could feel his pulse pounding around his temples. "That was Marilyn's condition, not mine. She takes advantage of young men. I was desperate. I had to screw her for her to even take me on."

"Like you were screwing Juliette? It seems you have a pattern, Avery. You attach yourself to powerful women to get ahead."

Hearing her name coming out of Jeff's mouth gutted him. "Shut up. Don't you ever talk about her again."

"Why not? She's the one who threw herself at me. Must have been unhappy at home."

"She was drunk. That raises questions of consent for me." Avery stared him down, even though he had to look up.

"Oh, she consented." Jeff laughed. "It doesn't surprise me the two of you ended up together. You're a couple of whores."

Avery took a big swing and punched Fordham square in the jaw. It felt amazing to see him stagger backward, but not as amazing when Fordham punched back. His fist hit Avery right in the eye. Soon, they were pushing each other around, punching, sometimes connecting, and sometimes missing. They crashed into the wall and some of the framed pictures of songwriters fell off. Avery could hear people screaming but it made no difference to him. All he wanted to do was kill Jeff. It was simple. He charged him and tackled him with his shoulder, sending Jeff sprawling to the floor. Avery tumbled on top of him, getting in another shot at his chest, but Jeff was strong and flipped Avery. He scrambled to his knees and hit him straight in the nose, making Avery bleed immediately. Then Brett grabbed Jeff from behind and pulled him off Avery. "That is enough!" he screamed.

Avery licked some of the blood off his upper lip.

"You fucking piece of trash!" Jeff turned to the crowd. "Someone call the police!"

Brett left Jeff and extended a hand to Avery. "You okay?"

Avery stood up and turned to Jeff. "I'll do it again. This'll feel like a love tap."

"You all heard him threaten me," Jeff said.

Avery noted the horrified stares of the people in the club so he walked to the mirror in the back. Blood poured from his nose, and his left eye was almost swollen shut. He started to laugh. It was a crazy laugh, one he couldn't stop. Brett stared at him then threw him a bar rag to hold to his nose. The laugh kept coming. Avery couldn't help but think that his outside finally matched how he felt inside. He'd been defending the honor of a woman who cheated on him, who wanted nothing to do with him anymore. He _had_ to be out of his mind.

Soon enough, sirens filled the air and red and blue lights filled the front of the club. The Bluebird employees either clustered around Avery or tried to clean up the mess. The manager, Chris, couldn't look at Avery. He'd been trying to placate Jeff, but he wouldn't talk to him. Jeff had a few women attending to him, dabbing with wet napkins at some bloody spots on his face. He stared at Avery and Avery stared back for a moment. Then he noticed that Marilyn was mysteriously absent. Brandon Jones looked miserable in the corner.

Two police officers walked into the club and Jeff motioned them over. "That man, Avery Barkley," he said, pointing, "assaulted me without provocation. Arrest him."

One officer walked over to Avery. "That true?"

Avery didn't say anything, as was his right. He just held the rag to his nose. The pain started pricking around the edge of his consciousness but he didn't care. Eventually, when the cop slapped those handcuffs on, he felt a strange kind of relief.

* * *

The holding cell of the Nashville police department was bright white and crowded. Avery shifted on the bench, trying to ignore the serious pain setting in. The two guys on either side of him were huge and were both asleep. The booking process had taken forever, and by the time he got to make his one phone call, it was the middle of the night. He thought it might be morning by now. There were no windows so he couldn't tell.

When the adrenaline of the fight with Jeff wore off, the cold reality of what he'd done started to sink in. He hadn't been thinking when he'd thrown the first punch, but the feeling, the intent of wanting to kill Jeff was real. Avery hadn't felt like that in a very long time. It scared him to know how close he'd come, and to know he had that potential inside of him.

The door to the cell opened and an officer called, "Avery Barkley!"

Avery stood up quickly even though it made him woozy. "Yes?"

"You just made bail. Come with me."

When Avery was finally allowed outside again, the bright morning made him squint his good eye. He staggered in the direction of Deacon's familiar drawl.

"Barkley. Good Lord." Deacon's brow furrowed. "Did you at least get in a few good shots?"

"The first one was great. The rest, not so much." Avery walked stiffly with Deacon toward his SUV.

"Your shirt is soaked in blood. You think your nose is broken?"

"No idea."

"They treat you okay in there?" Deacon thought back to his recent stint in prison, and he knew all too well the kind of brutality that went on behind bars.

"I guess, although I'm pretty sure one of Nashville's finest deliberately knocked my head against the top of the squad car when he threw me in the back."

Deacon sighed. "Second-degree aggravated assault is a serious charge."

"I know Jeff was aiming for first, so at least there's that. And aggravated is an exaggeration."

"Will you tell me the real story of what happened?" He opened the door for Avery and helped him climb up to the seat.

"He was talking shit about Juliette, basically."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Deacon closed the door and crossed to the driver's side and climbed in. "The guy's evil. There's no other word for him."

Avery laid his head against the back of the seat and closed his eye. "And I did all this even though Juliette doesn't want to ever see me again."

Deacon squinted. "Hold the phone. She said that?"

"Not in so many words. The real ones were worse, hurt way more than all this."

"That doesn't add up. That girl loves you so much."

Avery exploded. "No she doesn't, Deacon! You don't know, you weren't there!"

Deacon held up his hands. "Okay, sorry." He looked over at Avery. He'd never seen his young friend like this. He looked lost, gone. He started the SUV. "Unfortunately, you made the papers this morning."

"Really?"

"You punched out the head of one of Nashville's biggest record labels in front of a bunch of industry bigwigs and a reporter from _The Tennessean_."

"Shit." He wiped his hands on the front of his jeans. "Why am I so impulsive?"

Deacon had no answer to that. "We need to get you checked out by a doctor, cleaned up, and then you need to talk to a lawyer."

"Whatever." He turned to Deacon, and Deacon winced involuntarily at the condition of Avery's face. "I owe you a shit-load of money now, don't I?"

"Not if you make all your court appearances. Don't worry about it."

* * *

Juliette sat in a paper gown in her doctor's office. She'd already had an ultrasound, which made her uncomfortable. Now she was just waiting for the doctor to come in.

When she'd checked in, she noticed there seemed to be a lot of pregnant women in the waiting room. They looked happy. She was grateful that her doctor's office arranged for her to go directly into an exam room so she would have privacy. One of the perks of being famous.

The door opened. "Hello, Juliette." Dr. Davis was a kind young woman, and Juliette always felt comfortable around her.

"Hi, Doctor Davis." She shifted on the exam table.

The doctor wasted no time. "So, you're pregnant. I'm sorry the birth control pill didn't work for you. Were you using a second form, like condoms?"

"No. Didn't think I needed to." She didn't want to tell the doctor that she'd been too drunk with Jeff to even suggest he use one. Dr. Davis knew all about Juliette's sexual history, so Juliette cut to the chase. "What did the ultrasound say? How far along am I?"

"Eight weeks. I'd estimate your due date to be January 18, 2015."

It hurt Juliette to hear that date, the date that would never be. "I don't want to go ahead with this pregnancy."

The doctor nodded. "It's your decision." She paused. "You're not together with that boyfriend you were telling me about a few months ago?"

Juliette had forgotten that she'd gushed about Avery to the doctor back when they'd first gotten together. "No, I'm not." She pushed her hair back. "I don't know if this is his or another man's, and frankly, I don't care."

The doctor frowned. "You were with another partner? I should test you for STDs."

"Probably should."

"Okay, I'll write the requisition. I'll also give you the names of some clinics around the state that perform abortions."

Juliette shook her head. "No. I can't have this done in the U.S. If the public found out, I'd lose whatever career I have left at this point. I was thinking I'd go to Europe. I found a clinic in Denmark that seems private."

"The Danish do have excellent physicians. If you decide to go there, let me know and I'll call ahead for you, just to make sure the place is reputable."

"Thank you."

"I'd advise you to stay for a few days after in case there are complications."

"What kind of complications?"

"Bleeding, infections. This is a surgical procedure. There are always risks."

Juliette nodded. "I understand."

The doctor wrote on a form for bloodwork. "Listen, if for any reason, you change your mind, just let me know. I'll get you a script for prenatal vitamins; get you on a schedule to see me. And paternity testing is much easier now. It's a simple blood test."

"I'll keep it in mind," Juliette said, but she didn't mean it.

"I have to do an exam today regardless. Please lay back on the table."

"Fine," Juliette said, not seeing the point.

The doctor looked down at her before she began. "I'm sorry this is happening, Juliette," she said.

"Yeah. Me too."

* * *

Avery sat at one of the tables in the Bluebird. Erika had requested a meeting with him. It had been one endless day: the doctor had set his nose and checked him over, although Avery could see the disgust for his actions in his eyes; Deacon had taken him back to the apartment so he could shower and change, then shuttled him right to a criminal lawyer who wasn't very optimistic. He might actually have to do some time for this; the best case scenario would be community service and probation.

The ache in his body only reminded him of the ache in his heart. He might have just fucked up his entire future, and for what? Nothing. He'd thrown it all away. He and Juliette shared that, for sure. What did Deacon say? Prone to desperation. And desperation led to rash decisions.

Erika walked in from the back carrying some papers. "Hey, Avery." Her expression was flat.

"Hi, Erika," Avery said as she sat across from him.

"See that spot on the floor?" She pointed to an area near the sound board. "Brett spent quite a bit of time last night mopping up your blood there."

Embarrassment flooded Avery. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I am so sorry. I acted without thinking."

"You're right about all of that. How do you think it felt when I got those calls last night, first from Chris telling me about how you attacked Jeff Fordham, who had rented this place as our guest, and then from a reporter from _The Tennessean_ who'd seen it all and wanted to know what I'd do about it?"

Avery had no answer; he just hung his head.

"Let me read a little of the article to you: 'Last night, at a private function at the Bluebird Café, Bluebird employee Avery Barkley allegedly assaulted Edgehill Republic CEO Jeff Fordham in front of a crowd of about one hundred who had come out for a showcase for new Edgehill artist, Brandon Jones. Barkley, who is also a producer for Highway 65 Records, was arrested and charged with second-degree aggravated assault. The melee at the Bluebird is extremely unusual for such a highly regarded Nashville institution.'"

Avery's injuries pulsed with pain at hearing the words. Shame filled him. "I'm sorry, Erika. I don't think anything I can say will make a difference."

She sighed. "I know, Avery. I have to let you go."

For some stupid reason, Avery had thought maybe he'd be suspended, but not fired. He looked up. "But I thought you liked the work I've done here for the past year."

She softened a fraction. "Of course. You're a very hard worker, and a smart guy. But even smart guys make stupid mistakes, and unfortunately, this is one you can't take back. You dragged the name of The Bluebird Café through the mud and marred our reputation. You might have hurt future business, and that hurts the careers of all of the songwriters who come here to perform."

Avery nodded, barely holding back the emotions that threatened to overflow. "That's the last thing I want."

"I know. It's why I'm releasing a statement today apologizing to Jeff Fordham, Edgehill, and the Nashville community for your reckless actions and stating that you've been terminated." She pushed a pink slip towards him. "I'm sorry it has to end like this, Avery, but I think it's best if you stay away from here. You should get your things from your locker."

He rose from the table and she did, too. He extended his hand to her. "Thank you for everything, Erika. You've been a great employer and you believed in me when not too many other people did. I'll carry what I've learned here for the rest of my life."

She smiled sadly. "Best of luck to you, Avery. We loved having you here." She walked back to her office.

Avery collected his things from his locker then stepped back into the room, trying to absorb every detail. He'd been lucky enough to perform here, but it meant even more to work behind the scenes, to further the mission of bringing authentic, true music to Nashville. So many great songs had their debut here, songs people all over the world took to their hearts and made their own. The tiny room held so much history. It pained him to know he'd never see it again.

After he'd taken one last look, he walked out of the club. Then he felt his phone buzzing and took it out. Rayna was calling.

"Hello, Rayna."

"Avery. First of all, are you okay?"

"The doctor said I'll live. Unfortunately."

Her voice was tight. "You up to coming out here to see me? Now?"

"I'll be right there," Avery said. He opened the door to his truck and sat stiffly behind the wheel. Another stop on the termination tour, no doubt. He laid his head on the steering wheel and pictured his father's hard face, telling him he was a waste. So far, he'd only proven him right.

* * *

Juliette heard Glenn, Emily and Bo talking in the kitchen when she arrived home from her appointment. "This just doesn't seem like him. He's not violent," Glenn said.

"But he's pretty hotheaded when he's angry, much as I like him," Emily said.

"Wish I'd been there to have his back," Bo said.

Juliette entered the area to see the three of them huddled over Glenn's tablet. "Oh, hey, Juliette," Glenn said, moving the tablet to his lap. "Things go okay at the doctor's?"

"I'm fine," she said, tossing her purse on the couch. "I'm more interested in what you're all hiding from me."

"We're not hiding anything," Emily said, but Juliette motioned with her hand.

"Hand it over."

Glenn reluctantly gave the tablet to Juliette. She read the headline, "Jeff Fordham Assaulted at Bluebird Café," then the rest of the article, her eyes widening in shock at seeing Avery's name. She flipped through the pictures, the first a stock photo of the Bluebird, then the second, captioned, "UPDATE: Barkley mug shot."

Avery's face was bruised, his left eye blackened and completely swollen shut. Blood coated his lips and chin. But it was his right eye that haunted Juliette the most; there was nothing there. He looked dead inside. She gasped.

"This is pretty shocking," Glenn said. "Not that Fordham didn't deserve a good beating. I just wish Avery didn't have to pay the price. I'm guessing you haven't spoken to him."

Juliette swallowed. "No, and I won't be."

"But he just saw you in the hospital."

Juliette held up a hand. "Don't ask." She walked away. "I'm going to go lay down for a while."

The three exchanged worried looks as her bedroom door closed.

Juliette crawled onto her bed and buried her hands in her hair. Even after she'd ended things with Avery, she just kept hurting him. She was poison.

* * *

Rayna led Avery to her backyard patio. They each took a chair near the pool. She smiled sympathetically. "That looks like it hurts like hell."

"'Bout sums it up."

"I was sorry to hear what happened last night. I'm glad Deacon was able to bail you out."

Avery looked directly at Rayna with his good eye. "Let's cut to the chase, Rayna. I already know what you're going to say."

"And what's that?"

"That you're firing me from producing Evan's album. That I've damaged the reputation of Highway 65 Records, that you're embarrassed by my actions."

Rayna took a level look at the young man. "Funny, I wasn't going to say any of that."

Avery glanced away. "Sorry. That's just the gist of things I got from Erika. She fired me from the Bluebird."

Rayna nodded. "I can see her position. I'm in a different place here." She ran a hand over the chair's arm. "I'm not saying what you did was right. There are ways to deal with assholes like Jeff that don't involve violence. But I am sure he did something to provoke you. You want to tell me?"

Avery worked up his courage to look at Rayna again and he saw the kindness in her eyes. "Let me start from the beginning then. I haven't slept in almost forty-eight hours so forgive me if this is jumbled."

"Take all the time you need."

"It started when Juliette collapsed on stage. I went to the ER to see her. You know we'd broken up, but I was starting to think maybe I could forgive her. When I heard the news, I was so worried. I had to see her. But when I got there, she wanted nothing to do with me. In no uncertain terms, she rejected me. Said a lot of nasty things." He paused. "So that's what I was walking into the Bluebird with."

Rayna was concerned to hear this. She'd been there with Juliette after their breakup; she knew how upset she was that she'd hurt Avery. So why was she pushing him away? "Sounds crappy."

Avery almost smiled. "Yeah." He stared at the pool, its brilliant blue water. "Something else you need to know is that I'd once had a solo deal a couple of years ago. I had this manager, Marilyn, who wasn't exactly looking after my best interests."

Rayna stiffened. "Marilyn Rhodes?"

"You know her."

"I know of her. Her father was a Music Row executive and got her into the business at a young age, back when me and Deacon were starting out."

Avery was quiet. "Then I guess you know how she operates."

Rayna inhaled. "Yeah."

"The Bluebird was having a private showcase for this new singer of Edgehill's. Guess who his manager was?"

"You don't say."

"She came up to me, told me what a failure I was, which was a pleasant way to start out the night. Then Jeff was there, of course, and she must have told him about our past relationship."

"None of this sounds good."

"Nope. After the show, Jeff comes up to me and starts taunting me about Marilyn and about Juliette. Then he said he wasn't surprised Juliette and I got together because we were a couple of whores." He hung his head.

"That is so not true, Avery."

He looked up at Rayna. "Not about Juliette. But he was right about me. I was so desperate to make it that I prostituted myself to Marilyn so she would take me on as a client."

"I don't think that's the right word to use."

"Yes it is. I traded sex for money and power. That's the very definition of prostitution." He held back a sob, not wanting to cry in front of Rayna.

Rayna's heart went out to the broken young man in front of her. "No, it sounds to me like she used her power to take advantage of someone with less. Sexual coercion would be the mildest term I'd use."

"You're being too generous with me."

"No, I'm not. Unfortunately, that kind of thing happens all the time in the entertainment business. Makes me sick."

Avery batted away a tear running from his right eye. "Anyway, after Jeff's comment, I punched him in the jaw."

"As I said, violence isn't the answer, but I sure wish I'd been there to see it." She gave Avery a small smile, which he returned.

"Yeah, well, obviously I didn't get the better end of things." He exhaled. "When you're a smaller guy like me, you kind of get used to getting your ass kicked."

Rayna gently touched his arm. "Remember David and Goliath, honey. Bigger ain't always better."

Avery felt a pang in his gut. At this moment, she reminded him of his mother. Rayna was being impossibly understanding and kind. "You know the rest. I'm waiting on a court date now."

"Avery, this is a lot for you to handle, and I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who is sorry. I know this isn't good for Highway 65."

"No, but I think it will blow over eventually. It's more insider gossip anyway. Nobody outside of this town will care in the long run." She looked away. "Besides, I'm about to drop a bomb that people outside of Nashville _will_ care about." She clutched her hands and Avery noticed.

"Is this about your missing ring?"

She tilted her head. "You're observant. Yes, I've broken my engagement with Luke. The statement should be hitting the media any minute now."

"Should I say I'm sorry?"

Rayna smiled sadly at him. "No. Luke and I weren't meant to be. He's not the one I'm in love with. I was just too scared to admit what I feel for Deacon, so I'd convinced myself that Luke was the better choice. I was lying to myself and to him, and that's no way to live."

Avery whistled. "God, that's brave. I can't imagine what the public's going to think about you breaking up with the most famous man in country music."

"I regret that I hurt him. I should have broken it off months ago. There were some signs I was willfully ignoring. But it's better that I did it now, even if I'm starting a shit storm that may tank my career." She pushed back her hair. "So it's been a crappy couple of days for both of us."

"Yeah." Avery shifted position in the chair, and he winced from the pain. "But at least you can freely see the person you love."

"Avery," Rayna said softly, "you know Juliette better than I do, but I've had some experience dealing with a lover who's been so profoundly hurt that they can't see past it. Sometimes you've got to take a step back and let them do what they're going to do. You can't save her from it, even though it kills you. You need to protect yourself, too."

Avery recognized the deep wisdom in Rayna's words even if he couldn't accept it now. "Thanks for talking with me, Rayna. I know this is a difficult time."

"We'll get through it." She patted his hand.

"Um, did you tell Daphne what happened?"

"I've been trying to keep Daphne away from all media today, and tomorrow too. You know I can't let her see you like this."

"I know."

"She idolizes you."

Avery blushed a little.

"And she really took a shine to Luke, so I'm concerned about that, too."

"If it helps, she told me she wasn't too keen on the idea of you marrying him, though."

Rayna laughed. "I was so blind. Everybody could see it was a mistake but me."

"That's the way it goes with mistakes. Seems like a good idea at the time."

Rayna faced Avery. "Honey, be careful. This is the worst of it, when all the chaos has died down and the quiet sets in. Take very good care of yourself."

Avery didn't respond. He didn't want to make a promise he couldn't keep. "Thank you, Rayna," he said, rising from his chair.

She followed suit. "You're welcome. If you need anything, you call me. In the meantime, get some rest."

"I will." But rest was the last thing he wanted. Avery wanted oblivion.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks to those of you reading this story. I know I write long chapters which aren't always everyone's cup of tea. Hang in there with this one. Things are getting rock-bottom-y and dark but I promise I have a purpose. Replies are always appreciated and welcomed.**

* * *

Juliette stood on Deacon's porch and rang the bell. He'd invited her over for dinner. She held a glass bowl in her hands. The door swung open and Maddie was on the other side.

"Juliette!" She gave her a huge smile.

"Hey, girl," Juliette said, smiling back.

"Come in. Deacon's just putting the barbeque sauce on the chicken." Maddie bounced ahead of Juliette. "Look who's here!"

"Hey, darlin'," Deacon said. "Welcome."

"Thanks for having me." She held up the bowl. "I brought fruit salad."

"Nice. Is that from that fancy grocery store near your place?"

"No. I made it."

Deacon gave her a glance.

"I can cut up fruit. Although I guess the fruit _is_ from that fancy store." Juliette hadn't minded the task; it gave her something to focus on. Her trip to Denmark was only a couple of days away. She put the bowl on his kitchen counter.

"It's just the three of us tonight. Scarlett's at the Bluebird," Deacon said, licking a tiny bit of sauce from his right hand.

Juliette's stomach tensed at the mention of the Bluebird. She tried hard not to think about Avery's fight with Jeff, the one that led to his arrest and the loss of his job. Although in a small way, she did wish she could've seen him deck Jeff. "You staying the night, Maddie?" she asked.

"Yeah. I get to come over for a night every other week." She motioned down the hall. "I stay in the guest room next to Scarlett's."

"Like I told you, that's _your_ room now," Deacon said to his daughter. "'Course you got your stuff scattered all over every surface, so it's not like I could have a guest stay there anyway. Why do women need fifteen different kinds of body lotion?"

Maddie stuck her tongue out at Deacon. "I like to have options."

Juliette smiled at the playful way they interacted. "Come on Deacon, I bet you have a few different kinds of aftershave in your medicine cabinet," she said.

"Just two: an everyday one and one for special occasions." He brought out a platter with the chicken on it and set it on the dining room table. "Maddie, will you get the potato salad and the black-eyed peas from the fridge?"

"Yes, sir," she said, and brought the bowls to the table.

Deacon sat at the head of the table and Juliette and Maddie faced each other on either side of him. "This looks amazing, Deacon," Juliette said.

Maddie looked to her father. "Should we start with grace?'

"We should." He took her right hand and reached out to Juliette's left.

Juliette reluctantly extended her hand to Deacon. She hadn't had much religious upbringing as a child, although her neighbor Miss Carrie would sometimes take her to church. She had favorite Bible stories but an unclear understanding of God, who seemed so distant from her life. And how could she pray knowing what she was about to do? Still, she didn't want to be rude in Deacon's home so she bowed her head.

Deacon spoke. "Dear Lord, thank you for the food we are about to eat. Thank you for good company and the many blessings you give us daily." He paused. "Let us remember all those we love, especially those who cannot be here tonight. Please keep special watch over those whose troubles are overwhelming right now. Let them know that they are not alone. We ask this, as all things, in your name. Amen."

"Amen," Maddie and Juliette said.

Juliette bit her lip. Could Deacon have been thinking about Avery with that prayer? It sounded that way to her.

Deacon filled each of their glasses with ice water from a pitcher on the table. "Dig in, ladies."

When each had taken food, Maddie looked over to Juliette. "Have you started recording your new album yet?"

"Not yet. Still writing it at this point."

Maddie smiled. "Well, if you're still looking for songs, Deacon and I have written some great ones."

Deacon shook his head and pointed at Maddie with his fork. "Come on, Maddie. Juliette is our guest. No business talk tonight."

"But they're good songs!"

"Now, Deacon," Juliette said. "Don't squash her enthusiasm." She turned to Maddie. "I'm sure they're great. I'd love to hear them sometime."

Maddie smiled at her, then Deacon. "See?"

"The girl's got the fever. I can't slow her down," Deacon said, breaking a piece of cornbread.

"Music's in my blood, isn't that right, Dad?"

Juliette could see the way that simple word affected Deacon. He smiled at his daughter. "Yes, but right now you've got other things to think about, too, like your sophomore year. Aren't those PS-whatever tests coming up?"

"PSATs. They're just practice for the SATs anyway. Not a big deal," Maddie said, cutting a piece of chicken.

"They are a big deal. If you do well on those, you'll do well on the real thing and that will help you get into a good college."

"What if I don't want to go to college? Neither of you did, and you're both musicians, which is all I want to do anyway."

Juliette cleared her throat. "Maddie, our lives were very different from yours. You are so lucky to have so many people that care about you and your future. Nobody's saying you can't be a musician, but it's good to keep all your options open."

Maddie had no comeback to that. She respected Juliette highly.

Deacon looked gratefully to Juliette. "You never know where life will take you. And college is fun sometimes, too. I know Scarlett loved her time at Ole Miss. She's looking to go back to school to get her master's in creative writing."

"Really?" Juliette asked.

"Yeah, there's a great program at Vanderbilt she's dying to get into, but it's highly competitive, so she's polishing up her poems for her application. She's still writing songs in the meantime, too."

Maddie pushed back a piece of her hair. "I guess I could still write and play and do schoolwork. I do it now."

"That's my girl," Deacon said, and Maddie smiled at him.

It was clear to Juliette that they adored each other. She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked away.

* * *

Avery sat in the studio after a long day of recording. All of the musicians had gone home, but he just couldn't face going back to his apartment. The place had too many memories. If he closed his eyes, he could still picture Juliette showing up at his door at two a.m. the night of the music festival, ready to tell him she loved him. His feelings had been building up for months before that, but he'd never thought he'd actually have a shot with her. Apparently he'd been right, but she seemed to genuinely want him for a while. Why did she bother if she wanted someone else, someone he couldn't be? It didn't add up, but he'd given up trying to figure it out, at least for the moment.

He rose stiffly from his chair behind the board. His whole body ached and he wasn't sleeping much. At least the swelling on his left eye was going down so he could see out of it, although it was still horribly black and purple. He felt like the walking dead.

His Les Paul caught his eye in the recording booth. He'd played on the track Evan had recorded today, and it felt good to be making music again. Avery walked into the booth and sat down. He plugged his guitar into the amp and played an E minor chord, the very first one he'd ever learned. He loved the ominous sound of minor chords, and he began composing a dark riff. Eventually, the riff led to a melody that Avery had no words for. That seemed appropriate to him. He simply vocalized over the music, following its dark mood.

He could really go to prison. The thought scared the shit out of him. It might not be for long, a year max, but one day was too much. Prison changed you; he didn't think he'd fare well. This beating would probably be a pleasant memory compared to what was waiting for him there. And what did you do when you got out? A record wouldn't allow him to find decent work, and how did you go back to your life when everyone has moved on without you?

The worry and stress of the situation came out in the music, and his vocalizing grew louder and louder. He closed his eyes as his calloused fingers ran over the frets, digging into the strings. He didn't even have to look at the guitar; its entire body was memorized in his mind, the chords and notes imprinted in muscle memory. He could feel his vocal cords straining.

He was so wrapped up in the music that he didn't hear the door to the booth open. "Avery!"

He dropped the guitar to the floor. "Fuck!" He opened his eyes and saw Evan standing there.

Evan held his hands up. "Sorry, man. I didn't mean to scare you."

Avery inhaled and picked up the guitar. "I didn't know anyone was still here."

"I wasn't." He pointed to an amp. "Came back because I realized I forgot my phone." He picked it up. "What was that you were doing just now?"

"I was singing," Avery said.

Evan shook his head. "Dude, that wasn't singing. That was screaming."

Avery looked down. "So what?"

Evan sighed. "So you need a fucking break. Come on, you're going out with me tonight."

"No thanks," Avery said. While their working relationship was fine, he wasn't sure he wanted to spend time with Evan.

"I'm not taking no for an answer. You need to get out and do something, meet some new people."

"I'm sure I'll be meeting lots of new people in prison," Avery said.

"You ain't locked up yet. And you're probably being too pessimistic. You'll get probation or something." He looked carefully at Avery. "I'm thinking this isn't all about that anyway. My guess is it has something to do with a woman."

Avery looked up at him but couldn't say anything.

Evan nodded. "Exactly. Daddy always said I could read people. Helped make me big bucks around the poker table." He scratched behind his ear. "You know what they say: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

"I don't want anyone else." Avery stood and put the guitar in its stand.

"I ain't talking marriage, just one night of fun."

Avery looked at his reflection in the glass that separated the booth from the main studio. "I don't know, man. I feel like hell, I look like hell."

"You look like an outlaw! Women love that." He smiled and gripped Avery's shoulder. "Come on. I'll drive. There's this club downtown that my girlfriend wants to check out. She's waiting out in the car, and we're meeting a friend of hers there. A single friend."

Avery considered the possibilities, and he recognized that Evan was trying to help, in his way. He had nothing to lose. "Fine. Lead the way."

* * *

Juliette and Deacon sat in his living room nursing their second cups of coffee. Maddie had left them to take a phone call in her room. "So tell me, Deacon: Rayna's broken her engagement with Luke. Where does that leave you?"

Deacon had a secret smile. "In a much better place, I'll tell you what."

Juliette curled her legs up onto the couch; she had kicked off her sandals a while ago. "Good. I didn't much like Luke anyway. And it was glaringly obvious to the whole world that the two of you still love each other."

Deacon set down his mug. "Like it's glaringly obvious how much you and Avery still love each other?"

Juliette choked on her coffee. "No, Deacon. I'm not in love with him anymore."

Deacon leaned forward. "You are lying to me, girl."

"I am not!"

Deacon exhaled forcefully. "You are. Something is totally screwed up here, and you're going to tell me what you're hiding."

Juliette retreated behind the mask she'd so carefully constructed over the years when she felt threatened. "I'm not hiding anything. I realized that we'd never have an equal relationship. He wasn't enough for me."

"That why you cheated on him?"

"Who told you that? Rayna?"

Deacon shook his head. "No one told me anything, but I was able to piece it together myself."

Juliette shrugged, even though she was scared inside. "I'm not a one-man kind of woman. So I screwed around with Jeff. Big deal."

"Do you know why Avery fought Jeff?"

"I don't know. Wounded male ego?"

Deacon tugged at his collar. "No. It's because Jeff was talking shit about you. Avery was defending you."

Juliette blanched at the revelation. "I don't need defending. We'd already broken up."

"God, girl, you are infuriating. Can't you see how much that boy loves you? How he'd do anything for you?"

"It's not enough, Deacon." She pushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. "Besides, he's better off without me."

"Bullshit!" Deacon pounded the arm of the chair. "How is he better off? He's in a fucking downward spiral: he's been beaten all to hell, he lost his job, he could go to prison! Do you even care?"

Of course Juliette cared. She cared more about him than she did herself. That's why she was taking every action she could to protect him. She was ashamed that it wasn't enough, but she was doing everything she could to not make it worse. "You don't understand, Deacon."

Deacon pushed his palms flat against each other and held his hands to his mouth before speaking. "Then tell me. None of this makes sense. You're deliberately pushing him away, and I want to know why."

He'd always understood her, could read her almost as well as Avery could. That's why she had to leave before she broke down. "I didn't come here to be interrogated. It's over, Deacon. Leave it alone." She stood up and slipped into her sandals.

"What if something else happens, something worse? I'm worried." He grabbed Juliette's arm. "About him _and_ about you."

Juliette pulled away, grabbed her purse and stalked over to Deacon's door. "We all make choices in our lives, Deacon, and we have to live with them." She stared hard into his eyes. "Tell Maddie I said goodbye." She quickly opened the door and walked out so Deacon couldn't see the tears that threatened to fall.

* * *

The club's walls vibrated with some EDM song played way too loud. The DJ had an elaborate light show to go with the music, and they flashed and danced in the darkness. Avery squinted as he waited at the bar. What the hell am I doing here?

Evan walked up and handed Avery his drink. "Jack and Coke, heavy on the Jack, light on the Coke."

"Thanks."

Evan craned his head across the dance floor. "Melissa said Nina was just pulling up outside. They should be in any minute now."

Avery sipped his drink. "Evan, this does not seem like your kind of place."

"I know, right? Melissa and Nina love this stuff so I play along." He took a long swig from his beer. "I tell you Nina's a singer, too?"

"No."

"Yeah, she's in this pop-punk band. I think they're pretty popular if you go for that kind of thing. Her and Melissa have been friends ever since they were nine, grew up around here."

"Where'd you meet Melissa?" Avery asked.

"I was waiting tables in her daddy's restaurant downtown. She loved me when I was a nobody. Figure that means it's built to last."

Avery's stomach sank at his words and he took a big gulp from his glass.

"Here they are," Evan said, pointing to the door. "Over here, ladies!"

Melissa, a tall blonde, walked next to a petite brunette. Avery had to look twice: the Nina Evan was talking about was Nina Simmons, lead singer of First Time Out, a very popular band. Avery had heard their music on all the Top 40 stations. Avery pulled Evan closer. "You didn't tell me this Nina is _that_ Nina."

"Oh, so you know her? That'll make this easier."

"I know _of_ her."

"There you go." He smiled as the women approached. "Nina, darlin', so good to see you." He pulled her into a hug.

"Ugh," Nina said, muffled. She pulled back. "Every time I hug you I just end up smashing my face into your chest."

"I'll stoop next time." Evan turned to Avery. "Nina, this is my producer, Avery Barkley."

Avery held out his hand to her. "Pleased to meet you."

Nina cast an appreciative glance at Avery and gave him her hand. "Nice to meet you, too."

Avery took a look at Nina: her big, dark eyes were heavily lined with eyeliner; she had a tiny stud in her nose and multiple piercings in her ears; her dark hair had a huge green streak in it that glowed when the club lights hit it. The tight shirt and miniskirt she was wearing accentuated her curves.

"Come on, let's dance," Melissa said to Evan, dragging him by the arm.

Evan set his empty beer bottle on a nearby table. "Later, Avery," he said, but gave him a raised eyebrow over Nina's head.

Avery leaned on the bar, looking into his drink.

Nina took a step towards him. "Hey, cowboy."

Avery looked up and scowled. "I ain't nobody's cowboy."

"You're producing Evan's album. I assumed you were a country boy like him."

He shrugged. "Guess you could say I'm a mountain boy, but I'm more into rock and American roots music."

"That's cool. I think people sometimes think Nashville is only country, but there's all genres here. The underground scene is insane." She pushed back a piece of hair from her eyes. "I bet you're a good dancer."

"Not really."

Nina walked her fingertips up Avery's left arm. "I see you've been hurt." She gently touched his face around his eye. "This must kill."

Avery stood still, then reached up and removed her hand from his face.

"You're a fighter. I think that's sexy."

Avery looked away and downed the rest of his drink. "Look, I don't know what Evan's girlfriend told you about me, but I'm in a fucking terrible place in my life right now, so I ain't gonna be very entertaining."

Nina leaned on the bar and motioned to the bartender. "Two shots of Patron." When Avery opened his mouth to protest, she said, "It's on me."

The bartender placed the two shots in front of them. Avery didn't like mixing his liquor because it made him drunk quicker, but he didn't want to be rude.

Nina lifted her shot in a toast. "To fucking terrible places."

Avery lifted his and nodded to her, then they both threw them back, the liquor bracing and warm. "Damn, that's good," he said.

"Oh, that a little smile I see?" Nina turned to him and her nose stud twinkled in the blue light.

Avery motioned to the bartender. "One good turn deserves another." He poured two more and they both drank them fast.

"Now we're talking, cowboy." Avery gave her a look and she held up her hands. "Sorry. Nobody's cowboy."

He laughed in spite of himself, then winced and held his ribs.

"Give it a few minutes, then it'll be your favorite painkiller." She motioned to the table and they both sat down.

"I've heard your songs all over the radio," Avery said. "You're a hell of a belter."

She shrugged. "Thanks. You've probably only heard the hits, though. Record company always wants something bright and poppy. I don't get to record the stuff I really want."

"What's that?"

"The darker stuff, the songs that are closer to punk than Top 40."

"That sucks. You know, one of your songs has a feel similar to the band Suicide."

Nina looked at Avery incredulously. "Alan Vega is my hero."

"'Dream Baby Dream' is one of my favorite songs."

"Not many people our age know Suicide." She pointed to him. "Feel numb yet?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"We'll work on it."

After about half an hour of debating the finer points of Patti Smith's _Horses_ and The Ramones' _Rocket to Russia_, and a few more drinks, Evan and Melissa wove their way back to them. "Are y'all just gonna sit around here and _talk_?" Melissa asked. She was definitely buzzed.

Nina looked to Avery. "Things loosened up now?"

Avery moved his neck from side to side. He wasn't feeling any pain at the moment. He looked up at Evan. "If Mr. Florida Backwoods can get down, I guess I owe it to you to try."

The dance floor was crowded and hot. Nina held Avery's hand as they moved to the middle. He saw a couple of people notice her, but no one approached. The music pounded in his ears and Avery felt a bit dizzy in the company of so many other people. Nina pulled him close and started dancing. In truth, it was more like grinding. She turned around and leaned up against him, putting her head on his shoulder. Avery moved slowly because he had no idea how to dance to this music. He allowed himself to touch her arms. She turned back to him and took a step towards him, putting her hands on his hips. Tentatively, he put his hands on hers and was rewarded with a big smile. Avery felt a bead of sweat trickle from his neck all the way down his back.

The rest of the night passed in a hot, close blur. The rounds of drinks kept coming, the music and their voices louder. Then Nina pulled him away from Evan and Melissa to the back of the club. She opened the door to the bathroom.

"I think you can handle this on your own," he said but she just gave him a look and pulled him in after her. The room was meant for a single person. She locked the door.

"I have something for you. Close your eyes."

Avery leaned against the wall and did as he was asked. He could hear Nina digging around in her purse for something, then a tapping noise.

"Okay, here's your surprise."

Avery opened his eyes to a grinning Nina holding a tiny mirror in her hands that held two white lines of powder. She had a rolled-up bill in her left hand.

"Ta-da!"

Avery swallowed. "That coke?"

"Of course. My special treat."

He hesitated. Avery had never done coke, never touched any kind of drugs, even pot. He was always aware of protecting his voice, his lungs. That Avery wouldn't take the risk. That Avery had dreams and plans for the future.

That Avery was dead.

He took the bill, put it to his nose and snorted up the powder. Immediately intense pain rushed right to his head – it probably wasn't the best idea to snort drugs with a recently broken nose. He groaned and leaned his head against the wall.

Nina did her line and put the paraphernalia away. She took Avery's hand and led him out.

"All I have is a headache," he said.

"You'll know when it kicks in." She pulled him to a dark corner and pushed him up against the wall. She grabbed his neck and kissed him, plunging her tongue into his mouth.

Avery tensed but Nina's mouth was insistent. Eventually he gave in and kissed her back. Then an intense rush built in his blood, raced to his brain. He thought he might suddenly explode. He pulled back from Nina. "Holy FUCK!" he said, eyes wide.

She just smiled at him and then kissed him harder.

Avery got lost: lost in the private bubble of his high, lost in the soft feel of her body. She pressed it against his and he used his hands to explore her soft skin, the tiny circumference of her waist. He let himself remember what it was like to hold her in his arms, to feel the rise and fall of her chest. His heart pounded so hard he swore he could hear his own pulse. Even though his eyes were closed, he thought he saw flashes of white in his peripheral vision. His breathing quickened as she buried her face in his neck, her hands moving underneath his shirt, nails scratching his back. His lips parted: "Juliette," he breathed.

Then pain rocketed through him as Nina kneed him right in the groin. "You fucking asshole! You motherfucker!"

Avery hunched over, unable to move. He stared up at Nina's furious face, her eye makeup smeared and running black down her cheek. "You _used_ me," she said loudly, drawing Evan and Melissa's attention. They quickly ran over. "You think I'm some whore? A blow-up doll?"

Avery's thoughts raced and he couldn't grab onto them. "Just leave me alone," he said, struggling to stand.

"Fine by me." She turned and ran from him. "Fucking loser!"

Melissa chased after Nina, giving Avery a murderous look. "Wait!"

Evan shook his head. "Man, this was the perfect setup. What happened?"

Avery tried to pull down his shirt but his hands were shaking. "I called her the wrong name. My head is all messed up. I can't think, I can't think." He ran his hands through his hair.

"Hey, look at me," Evan said, taking Avery by the upper arms. He saw that his pupils were dilated. "Damn it, what'd she give you?"

"Nothing."

"Come on."

"Coke. Don't tell my lawyer."

Evan groaned. "I've got to get you out of here."

Avery felt Evan steering him across the club, shoving him from behind. Melissa ran up to them in a panic. "I chased after her but she took off. She shouldn't drive like this."

"She made a stupid decision. That's on her." Evan nodded to Avery. "We have to leave _now_."

They led him to their car and put him in the back. Avery felt himself sliding from a height – he tried to hold on but his hands wouldn't grip. "Oh my God." He started pounding on the seat. "FUCK!"

Melissa turned to look at Avery. "What's wrong with him?"

"Your _friend_ gave him coke."

"Doesn't that make you high, happy?"

"I think he's having a bad reaction." He gripped the steering wheel tighter. "If something happens to him, Rayna's gonna kill me. Goodbye record deal."

"That won't happen." Melissa shook her head and stared out the passenger window. "God, Nina's really got a problem."

"No kidding."

Avery managed to mumble his address to them when they asked, so Evan found his building eventually. He took the keys from Avery and accompanied him to his apartment. He opened the door. "Okay, soldier, try to get some sleep."

"Sleep? I'm never gonna sleep again," Avery said, eyes darting. He had trouble catching his breath.

"It'll wear off eventually. Try to relax; let me know if you need a ride to the studio tomorrow to pick up your truck."

Avery barely heard him. He was too busy trying to hold back the rage that was surging through his blood. Evan slipped out and shut the door.

Avery paced; he talked to himself; he scratched his arm until it bled. He'd been poisoned and he needed to get rid of it. Did she even fucking care? Had she ever cared? He knocked some crap off his coffee table, leaving only his laptop remaining. He had to get it out. He _had_ to. He grabbed the computer, opened it, and started writing.

* * *

Juliette had been exhausted when she came home from Deacon's and had gone to bed immediately, another symptom of this _thing_ happening to her. But she kept having bad dreams, dreams she couldn't remember. She only knew she kept waking up on the verge of a scream with her pulse pounding under her skin. She lay awake sick to her stomach, sick of herself.

Sometimes she told herself that she'd meet someone else, that life was long, that she was rich and famous and she could have any man she wanted.

It was a lie, of course. She only wanted one man, and she couldn't have him. Her hands drifted to her stomach. If it _was_ his – her phone chimed, interrupting the thought. She'd received an email. She picked up the phone from her nightstand. Might as well see what it was. She wasn't sleeping anyway. Then she gasped; it was from him. The subject was "I Can't."

I need you to know something. I need you to LISTEN. You HUMILIATED me. Did you know Jeff was there? Did you know he heard the song, the song you couldn't even be bothered with? Did you know he used that as a weapon against me, that he took the love I feel for you and made it ugly and embarrassing and something I should be ashamed of? I was stupid, clueless, blind.

But I can't be ashamed. I didn't do anything wrong. Not to you.

I recognize now that I'm being punished, that I SHOULD be punished. This is fucking karma. It's for the way I treated Scarlett, for throwing her away like a piece of garbage. It's for other things, things I've never told you about, things I thought were buried and dead, but they're not. Every awful thing I've done in my life is only going to bury ME.

I thought I could start over. I thought being good to you would be enough. But it's never enough. I'M never enough. I don't know why I keep chasing after people who don't love me and treating the ones who do like shit.

I'm gonna go to prison, Juliette. Do you realize that? When they lock me in that cell, all I'm gonna see is you. Hell, you've already sent me there. I already live behind bars. You've tied me up, I can't move, I can't think, it's Juliette on my skin, Juliette on my lips, Juliette on my mind for the rest of my life.

You killed me, but I can't die. Please, please just let me _die_.

Juliette threw the phone across the room. The message didn't sound like Avery and that's what scared her the most. She'd made him insane. She'd done everything she could to make him let go but he wouldn't. Why couldn't he let go?

Why couldn't she?


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I have the best readers. Thanks so much for the reviews on the last chapter. They keep me encouraged and ready to write. I love to hear what you think.**

* * *

Juliette stared at the television. Robin Roberts was interviewing Luke Wheeler on GMA about his broken engagement with Rayna. He was actually crying, talking about how betrayed he felt, how hurt. Juliette didn't believe those crocodile tears for a second. She'd only told Rayna that he was "a good dude" at the concert at Fort Campbell because she thought that's what her boss wanted to hear. Juliette knew the interview would give Luke a nice bump in album sales, not to mention a legion of women swooning, just dying to help him get over his broken heart. She could picture Jeff rubbing his hands together in glee over the money pouring in.

Jeff. Of all the stupid, self-sabotaging things she'd ever done, he was the worst. To think that she was possibly pregnant with his child made her sick. Sick actually wasn't even the right word, couldn't describe the desperate feeling in her gut. It filled her with a panic she'd never known before. That would all be over in a couple days. She'd take two flights: Nashville to JFK, JFK to Copenhagen. She'd arrive and then have the procedure the next day, then spend a few days there to recover.

She'd cancelled her last therapy appointment and said she'd call to reschedule. Of course, that was probably not the best decision she could make at this point, but making bad decisions was her specialty. She didn't feel confident that she could trust the therapist. It didn't matter; she'd done almost everything in her life by herself, so this wouldn't be any different.

She heard the doorbell ring and Bo answered. The click of high heels soon followed and Juliette looked up to see Rayna striding into her living room. She looked like she had something to say, but then she saw Luke on the TV. A flash of pain moved through her face, then was gone.

Juliette quickly pressed the "off" button on the remote. "Sorry."

Rayna placed her car keys on the counter. "I knew he was doing it. Somebody might as well capitalize on this."

"What are you doing here, Rayna?"

"I'm here because you were supposed to do a radio tour starting tomorrow, but you cancelled because you're going to a spa in Denmark for a week? What the hell is that?"

Juliette looked coolly at Rayna. "It's exactly what you said."

"I got you booked on 'The Big Time with Whitney Allen'. That's a hundred and fifty stations syndicated nationwide. Do you know how hard it is to line that up?"

Juliette shrugged. "Whitney's a sweetheart. She'll forgive me."

"That's not the point. I want you to remember that this is my label. You don't get to call the shots."

"Five times platinum. That's all I'm gonna say." Juliette rose from the couch. "So unless there's something else you wanted, I have to go pack."

"Sit down," Rayna said. "We need to have a discussion."

Juliette sat back down in a huff. "About what?"

Rayna sat next to her. "About what's going on with you, girl. Something's seriously wrong, and I need you to tell me what it is."

"There's nothing wrong."

"Juliette, don't start. I have a feeling, but I don't want to have to guess or put words in your mouth. I want to hear it from you."

Juliette noticed Rayna wore what looked like a wedding ring on a chain around her neck. "What, are you and Deacon double-teaming me now?"

"No, but we're both worried. I was there when you were so upset about telling Avery what had happened between you and Jeff. Then after, you were devastated that you'd hurt him. So why, _why_, are you pushing him away now?"

Juliette backed away from Rayna slightly on the couch, but internally, she was scrambling. "Since when are you allowed to butt into my relationships, Dr. Phil?"

Rayna exhaled. "Since you became one of Highway 65's signature artists. Since Avery started producing Evan Rider's album. Since I can see the absolute danger the both of you are in right now."

Juliette had no comeback; Rayna's words rung like a bell. She hadn't been able to sleep after reading Avery's email. Her mind kept spinning out scenarios, each one worse than the last.

Rayna waited for Juliette to say something, but she wouldn't meet her eyes. She sighed. "All right, you want me to present my case. Here it is: you passed out on stage. You reject Avery when he comes to see you in the ER. You're mysteriously visiting another country." She gently touched Juliette's cheek. "And you're looking a little fuller in the face lately."

Juliette squirmed away from Rayna. Heat started rising in her body. "Your point?"

"Baby girl, are you pregnant?"

The simple question unleashed a flood in Juliette. All of the pain, worry, and torment that she'd been holding in burst through her lips in a strangled cry. She couldn't say the words. Rayna immediately reached over and captured Juliette in a hug. She held her for a few minutes until Juliette's breathing finally slowed.

Juliette pulled away and wiped the tears from her face. "I thought I'd been through the worst of everything in my life. My Mama, the scandals, the protests, all of that. I thought, 'Nothing will be worse than that. I can get through anything now.' But life or God or something is determined to torture me."

Rayna didn't say anything. She just rubbed Juliette's arm.

"Yes. I am pregnant, but not for much longer. I'm going overseas for an abortion."

Rayna nodded. "Does Avery know?"

"No. I'm not telling him. It doesn't matter anyway, it might not even be his."

"So you're not sure who the father is?"

"Not with certainty, but I know the way my life goes. I don't doubt that this is Jeff's, and I have to get rid of it."

Rayna bit her lip and looked pained. She blinked back a tear.

"You okay?" Juliette asked, suddenly concerned for her.

"Give me a minute. I'm having flashbacks here."

Juliette was quiet. She'd been there in the aftermath of Maddie's paternity revelation. She saw how it nearly destroyed Rayna and Deacon.

Rayna collected herself and sat up straighter. "What you're telling me is that the baby could be Avery's or Jeff's but you're going ahead with this either way."

"Yes."

"Juliette, I would never tell another woman what she should or shouldn't do with her own body. That's her choice entirely. But I feel like I have to ask you: can you live with this decision for the rest of your life?"

Juliette's eyes teared again. "I have to, Rayna."

"I'm not saying 'have to.' I'm asking 'can you?' Can you have this procedure knowing that you might be aborting Avery's baby? Your baby?"

Juliette couldn't look into Rayna's eyes. "I don't want to trap him. Even if it is his, and I have the baby, he'll always be connected to me, and he deserves better than that."

"Wow," Rayna said. "There is so much wrong with that statement I don't even know where to start."

"What's so wrong with it?"

"First of all, you're making the decision for him, and I have learned the hard way that you should never make decisions for someone else." She paused. "I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping Maddie's paternity from Deacon. I thought I was protecting her. Deacon even said to me recently I'd done the right thing, but that's not true. I lied to him and I lied to her. I should have told the truth once I found out she wasn't Teddy's."

"Rayna, you were scared. Deacon wasn't sober at that time. You had no assurance he'd change."

She exhaled. "But it was still wrong. Even if he had never changed, there would have been things I could have done legally to protect her. I could have explained to her the truth when she could understand it, even in a limited way. Then everyone wouldn't have been so blindsided. And the fact was he did change. And I _stole_ all those years from both of them." Rayna wiped a tear away.

Juliette thought of the dinner she'd shared with Deacon and Maddie the night before. She wondered if Deacon thought about all those missing years. He must.

"And the other problem is you're assuming you're not good enough for him, that there's something wrong with you."

"That's true," Juliette said softly.

"It's not!" Rayna shook her head. "The two of you are so quick to think the worst of yourselves."

Juliette raised her eyebrow. "You talked to him?"

"After his arrest. That's how I know you pushed him away at the hospital. Whatever you said must have been terrible. That boy's been laid low."

"I had to, Rayna. He couldn't know the truth."

"Why?"

"Because there's no way out of this. I can't tell him what I'm doing, and if I can't be honest with him about this huge thing, there's no hope for us. I thought it was best if he moved on without me, so I said a bunch of stuff that I knew would hurt him." She laid her head against the couch cushion. "I had to make a fast decision."

Rayna considered her next words carefully. "I know you've always had to think on your feet. You're damn good at it. You're a survivor, honey, and that's one of the things I most admire about you."

Juliette was taken aback. She never thought Rayna admired anything about her.

Rayna continued. "But there comes a time when that kind of coping skill becomes unhealthy. You don't need to carry your burdens all by yourself anymore. Sometimes you have to trust that the worst case scenario won't happen."

Juliette rubbed her hand across a throw pillow. "But it always does. I'm cursed."

"If you had told Avery the truth, what do you think would've honestly happened?"

"He could've said I was lying, or called me a whore."

"Come on now, that's the last thing he would have done."

"How do you know?"

Rayna shrugged. "Something he said." She tugged at the bottom of her shirt. "Okay, so you have the worst case there. But assuming that doesn't happen, maybe something better might. I'm not saying he wouldn't be rocked by this news, or be angry or scared, but maybe you're selling him a little short here. What if you went to him and told him the truth, that you don't know who the father is and that you need him to take a test? That nothing may change, but you needed to know this one thing for your peace of mind?"

Juliette's lip quivered. Rayna was making sense, but she didn't want that. "Maybe you're right, but doing that would mean I'd have to deal with the consequences. If it's Avery's, maybe I'd want to keep it, but that's a huge mistake. I'd be a terrible mother."

"I don't think that's true."

Juliette gave Rayna a look. "You know about my Mama. She didn't give me much of an example."

"Cycles are very hard to break, and sometimes people turn to what they've always known, even if it's dysfunctional, because it's familiar. But I have intuition, and I just don't see you acting that way, ever. You are driven and smart and yes, you have your Mama's bad example, but sometimes we learn by what we're missing in our lives." She sighed. "You know my mother died when I was twelve. For the rest of my days, I've just had this hole in my life that'll never be filled."

Juliette wiped away a tear, acutely feeling that pain.

"And when my daughters were born, I remember wanting her there. I needed that example, but it was gone. As they've grown up, I've tried to think back to her in my childhood, but the memory just stops, you know? Now Maddie's past the age when I lost her, and Daphne's almost there. I have no guidance about this time in their lives from her, and it scares me." She pushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. "But I can't let it paralyze me. I know I've made mistakes with them, and I'll continue to."

Juliette sighed. "That's honest."

Rayna reached out and took Juliette's hand. "But this is the important part to remember: I love them with everything in me, love them more than my own life. That kind of love, that's what will last. Someday when I'm gone, when they think of me, that's what they'll remember."

Juliette tasted salt on her lips. "Stop it, Rayna. Making a pregnant lady cry is like shooting fish in a barrel."

Rayna smiled softly. "Sorry." She shifted on the couch. "Juliette, I think you owe it to yourself to take a little more time to figure this out."

"I don't have much longer. I'm like nine weeks at this point. That only gives me three left."

"Then you need to talk to Avery now."

"You know a baby's not going to solve everything between us."

"I'm not suggesting that. You might not ever get back together."

The words were a little dagger to Juliette's heart. She hadn't realized she was hoping for that anymore. "Well, I'm sure he hates me after the way I've treated him." The email kept popping in her mind.

"I think he's profoundly hurt and confused right now, but I don't think he could ever hate you. I might be wrong, but that's the feeling I got from him." She rubbed Juliette's shoulder. "I know this is going to be one of the hardest things you've ever done in your life, but you can do it."

Juliette looked down at her watch. "I wonder where he is right now."

"That I know: he's recording Evan's album today down at Rosewood Studios. I was thinking about heading there to check in, but I don't think I'll be able to make it."

"I don't want to blindside him with this at work, but I don't know if he'll answer if I call. Not that I want to do this over the phone."

"I'm sure you can speak to him privately when they're on a break." Rayna inhaled. "Juliette, go to him. Be brave."

Juliette couldn't believe she was having this conversation with Rayna. They'd come so very far. She looked up at her. "Thank you."

* * *

Black was the absence of color. Black absorbed all color. It was everything and nothing all at once. Avery wanted to live in black. He'd drawn all the shades tight in his apartment, but it wasn't enough. He had to settle for the couch and hiding under his old wool Army blanket, the one he'd bought in a thrift store back in Ohio. It had kept him warm those first nights he'd hidden his truck in the Wayne National Forest, hoping the rangers wouldn't catch him. It stayed with him the summer in Mississippi before college started, camping wherever he could find in a tiny tent. He dragged the thing with him everywhere.

If he pulled it up over his eyes, it was just dark enough. But darkness itself didn't bring rest. Darkness only emphasized the pain, amplified it, and made it ring so loud he couldn't drown it out. Even music, normally his salvation, couldn't touch it.

He'd been through some tough shit in his life, somehow survived it all. But this – this made him doubt. He'd been plunged into a deep depression ever since the cocaine and alcohol wore off sometime Saturday. He'd barely left the couch in two days, ignored his phone until it went dead, didn't eat at all. His chest felt heavy, as if he had a pile of bricks on top of it. He couldn't stop coughing. His entire body ached.

He didn't know why he'd been made so goddamn weak, small, like he was a fucking reject from the factory, or the runt of the litter. He couldn't think of one time growing up when he didn't feel isolated and weird. Well, that wasn't entirely true. The one time was when he was on stage. It was when he was in control, when people were forced to notice him. What was the word Juliette used? Overcompensating. But if that was true, hell, she did it, too.

She'd used the image of a light at the end of a tunnel twice in the songs they'd written together. But Avery wanted to tell her that sometimes the light is just another train headed straight for you.

He had absolutely no energy left in his body, no will to do anything. It pained him to exist. Then that thought strangely almost made him laugh; he could remember so clearly the way his father used to call him melodramatic. He thought his father had only three emotions: sarcastic cynicism, stoic determination and barely suppressed rage. Was it Avery's fault that he felt more? That there was a deeper well inside of him, one that simultaneously fed him and flooded him? It was where his creativity came from, he was sure. His father had never understood him.

There was only one person who'd ever truly understood: Juliette. He mourned her loss as if she'd died. A part of him thought that this state he was in was worse than if she'd actually been gone. He had to live with the knowledge that she was moving on and living her life without him while he was trapped forever in grief. But that wasn't true: of course it would be horrific if she were to die. Then he'd have to live forever without her, marking each day by her absence, by everything that could have been.

What the fuck was the point? Every time he tried to be something more, to reach for something better, to find a little bit of happiness, life smacked him down again and again. Being single-minded and frankly, selfish, hadn't worked. Being the good guy hadn't worked. There was nowhere else to go.

Tears sprang to his eyes again and he hated himself. "I give up," he said. "I don't know what kind of lesson this is but I think you've made your point. You win." He coughed and coughed. "Would you just let me go, please? It doesn't matter anymore. Hell here, or hell later. I want nothing. I want to _be_ nothing. Please, God. Please."

Exhaustion finally overtook him as his mind repeated the broken prayer: please, please, please.

* * *

Juliette took a deep breath as she walked down the hallway at Rosewood Studios. Her hands were shaking badly, so she balled them into fists and held them tightly at her sides as she approached the studio where Avery was recording Evan Rider. She thought she'd have to wait to see when someone came out, but to her surprise it was wide open. She heard no music. Tentatively, she walked to the doorway and saw only two men sitting on the leather couch across from the soundboard, one older, who was on the phone, and one younger, sitting dejectedly with a black cowboy hat in his hands. She knocked softly on the doorframe. "Excuse me?"

The young man looked up and his eyes widened in surprise. "Juliette Barnes?" he asked, rising.

"Yes. Are you Evan Rider?"

"Yes, ma'am. I guess we're label mates now."

Juliette nodded but all she could see was Avery's absence. "I guess we are."

The older man quickly got off the phone. "Miss Barnes, so nice to meet you. I'm Jeb Crowley, Evan's manager."

"Pleased to meet you," she said, but her eyes wouldn't stop scanning the room. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but I was looking for Avery Barkley. Is he here?"

Both of the men's faces darkened. "No, ma'am," Crowley said. "We were supposed to have a session starting at nine this morning but he never showed. I finally sent the musicians home. We can't get a hold of Avery."

Juliette's stomach dropped like a rock. "That's not like him," she said.

"No, it isn't," Evan said. "Seems like he's always the first to come and last to leave."

"Would you have any way of reaching him, Miss Barnes?" Crowley asked.

Juliette's head wouldn't stop spinning. "I could try," she said, and she gripped the wall.

"Thank you. Let him know we're waiting for instructions from him. Maybe this is all a big misunderstanding." The manager smiled tightly.

"Thank you, gentlemen. I'll let him know." She turned and left the studio, walking quickly.

"Juliette! Wait!"

She turned to find Evan chasing after her. "I really have to leave," she said.

"I know, it's just – " Evan sighed. "I'm worried. Look, the last time I saw him was Friday night. We went out together and things didn't go too well." Evan didn't want to say more out of respect for Avery's privacy. It dawned on him now that Juliette must be the woman Avery was so broken up over.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I got him home safe but he wasn't in a good place." Evan grimaced. "Shit. I should have stayed with him or something."

Fear surged in Juliette's veins. "I'm going to his apartment now. Thanks for letting me know."

"I'm sorry," Evan said, but Juliette was already racing down the hall.

* * *

Juliette gasped as she finally reached the top of the stairs and ran to Avery's apartment. On the drive over, all kinds of horrific things kept playing in her mind. She kept telling herself that she was crazy, that he would be okay, but the email kept repeating in her mind. She was genuinely frightened that he'd done something to himself. She never would have thought that before, but now it seemed everything had changed. God, this was all her fault.

She reached apartment five and knocked on the door. She heard no movement from inside. She knocked again. "Avery? Avery, are you in there? Open up." Still nothing.

Avery jerked awake on the couch. He could have sworn he heard Juliette's voice. Probably another one of his bad dreams. She could torment him even in his sleep. Everything seemed dark and fuzzy.

"Avery?" Juliette couldn't take it anymore. She took out her key and inserted it in, praying the lock was the same. She was rewarded with a click and the knob turned. She took a deep breath and walked in. The apartment was dark; the shades were drawn tight. It took her eyes a second to get used to it, but then she saw a figure huddled under a dark green blanket on the couch. She crossed the room. "Avery?"

It was so clear; he swore he wasn't imagining it this time. He pushed the blanket down and opened his eyes. This was no dream. Juliette was hovering over him with a terrified look on her face.

"Oh, thank God you're all right," she said, voice breaking.

Avery bolted upright. Seeing her again unleashed something in him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

His anger was deserved, of course, but Juliette couldn't help but be mad at him for making her worry. "I should be asking you the same question! You made us all crazy, wondering what happened to you."

"What are you talking about, us?"

"I went to see you at the studio but you weren't there. You missed your session with Evan."

Why was she out looking for him? "Since when is that any of your business?"

"It's not like you to go back on your commitments."

"No, it's not," he said, throwing off the blanket and getting off the couch. He couldn't handle being this close to her. "Why the FUCK are you here, Juliette? You get off on torturing me?"

She absorbed the blow. "I was worried." She looked over the wreck of the apartment. "What is wrong with you? You on some kind of bender?"

"I'm sick," he said, his heart pounding. God, he couldn't even look at her. What kind of spell did she have over him?

"You're better than this, Avery." She walked over to him and put her hand on his arm, but he pulled it away with a jolt, as if he'd just been shocked by live electricity.

"Don't you touch me! Don't you tell me who I am or what I get to do with my life! You have no right!" He started coughing.

Juliette backed off. "I'm sorry." She'd never seen him this upset before. She surveyed his face, still so terribly bruised, and in his eyes she saw a mix of rage, panic and defeat. God, she'd never seen defeat in him before.

"You didn't answer my question: what are you doing here?"

In the crazy rush of the moment, she'd forgotten, too. Her hand moved unconsciously to her stomach. Better to be cold about this. Better to just get it over with and let the consequences play out. "I have something really important to tell you. You're not going to like it, but I need to tell you the truth."

"Well, won't that be nice for once?" Avery shook his head. "I don't care what you have to say. I want you to get out."

"Not yet. Just let me finish." Juliette blinked away dizziness, choked back every fear rising in her chest. She looked him in the eyes. "Avery, I'm pregnant, and I need you to take a paternity test."

Her words didn't make sense to him at first. They were distant, like she was shouting over a canyon between them. But when they finally hit, every muscle in his body seized, like he was suddenly plunged into a frozen river. He couldn't breathe.

Juliette could see the shock rip through Avery. The silence scared her. "Say something. Please." Tears started falling down her cheeks even though she told herself she wouldn't cry.

Avery just let out this wheezing sound. He brought a hand to his chest and pounded a little but said nothing.

Juliette walked up to him. "Come on! Say something! Scream at me! Call me a lying bitch, whatever! Just react!"

Avery didn't say anything because he couldn't. He tried to breathe but could only inhale, not exhale. His attempts to get air out of his lungs grew more frantic. Instantly, he knew what was going on. Muscle memory came rushing back to him, his childhood returning in a powerful wave. He looked at Juliette and tried to communicate with her without talking.

Juliette saw sheer terror in Avery's eyes. She couldn't blame him, she'd been there herself. Then she noticed the way he was breathing, shallow and tight. "Are you all right?"

Avery shook his head. He went searching for his phone but remembered it was dead.

Juliette followed him. "Hey, look at me." She took his face in her hands and she could feel him shaking. "Are you having a panic attack?"

Avery broke Juliette's hold. He frantically searched for a pen and paper while trying to get a full breath out. He couldn't. Finally, he wrote something and held it up to her: "Not panic. Asthma attack. Call 911."

Juliette couldn't register what he'd written. "Asthma? Since when do you have asthma?"

He wrote again but started to stoop, the pain in his chest immense. "As a kid. No attacks since thirteen."

Juliette's eyes widened at his words. "Okay, hang on," she said. She ran to her purse on the counter and pulled out her phone. She dialed but asked him, "You got one of those inhaler things?"

Avery shook his head no. His breathing seemed to slow; he wasn't wheezing as much. Then Juliette noticed something. "Avery. Your lips are turning blue."

Avery felt tears escaping his eyes. He knew it was bad. What had he just asked of God earlier? That he wanted to die. How quickly he realized that wasn't true.

"911, what's your emergency?" the dispatcher asked.

"I need an ambulance to the Albemarle Apartment Building on Belmont Boulevard, unit five. My boyfriend is having an asthma attack."

"Has he used his rescue inhaler?"

"No, he doesn't have one." Juliette tried not to scream into the phone. "He hasn't had an attack since he was thirteen. I don't know what to do. Please hurry."

"Ma'am, can he speak?"

"No. His lips are turning blue."

"An ambulance is on its way."

Juliette turned to Avery. "They're coming now," she said, but he didn't hear her. Instead, his eyelids closed, and he fell like a house of cards.

Juliette screamed as his body hit the floor. She dropped the phone and instantly rushed to his side, falling to her knees. "Avery!" She didn't know what to do; she considered something like CPR but she didn't know if that would work. She checked his neck and he still had a pulse. She tried to listen to his chest to see if he was breathing, but she couldn't be sure. Out of desperation, she put her mouth to his and blew in a few breaths, not knowing if she was doing the right thing. "Come on, Avery," she said, pushing the hair back from his forehead. "Open those gorgeous blue eyes for me. Wake up."

He made no movement, no acknowledgement that he might be conscious. Oh God, he was right. She _had_ killed him.

When she heard the sirens approaching, Juliette left Avery's side to throw open his front door. Eventually she heard the loud sounds of men racing up the stairs and their two-way radios. "In here!" she yelled to them.

The paramedics walked into the apartment pushing a stretcher and carrying large bags of equipment. They immediately checked Avery's vitals and applied an oxygen mask, asking Juliette the same questions the dispatcher had.

"You've never seen him have an asthma attack before?" one asked, looking for something in his bag.

"Never," Juliette said, wanting to touch Avery but keeping her distance, staying out of the paramedics' way. "He said he hasn't had one since he was a kid."

Then one of them rolled down Avery's pants, exposing his leg. He took out something that looked like an enormous syringe, swung, and jammed it into his thigh.

Juliette yelped. "What are you doing to him?"

The other paramedic spoke. "We're giving him a shot of epinephrine. It's a way of treating asthma in an emergency like this. It'll help with the inflammation in his lungs until we can get him to the ER and give him steroids. Luckily we're only a mile and a half from the hospital."

Soon they picked Avery up and put him on the stretcher. Juliette followed close behind. "Miss Barnes?" one asked.

"Yes?" She knew they had recognized her.

"Make sure you take his wallet with his insurance information and his phone if he has one. You'll need it at the hospital."

She nodded and turned back into the apartment. It took her a minute but she found the wallet and phone on the floor near the couch. Then she raced after them, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

Time moved strangely during an emergency. Sometimes Juliette felt that it didn't move fast enough, like the five minute ride to the hospital that felt like half an hour; sometimes it moved too slowly. Avery wasn't responding to the nebulizer treatments he'd received on the way over or in the ER. They'd started an IV for him, and a doctor explained how they were giving him steroids through it, but it wasn't enough. He'd led her out of Avery's room. "Juliette, he needs to be intubated and put on a ventilator."

"What? Why?" Her voice was ragged with tears.

"We can't get the oxygen level in his body to rise any other way. He's not improving. This is a severe attack, and the muscles he uses for breathing are becoming too fatigued to work. That's why he passed out at home. When we get him on the ventilator, we can control his breathing until the lungs are recovered enough so he can breathe on his own. We're going to transfer him up to the ICU in a few moments."

She nodded even though all of that sounded scary and awful. She just wanted the doctor to tell her if he would be okay, but she was too terrified to ask. The answer might not be what she wanted to hear. "Can I go with him?" was all she managed.

"Of course, but give us a few minutes to settle him first. I'll have one of the nurses accompany you upstairs." As if on cue, the doors to the ER room opened and a large team of people surrounded Avery's stretcher as it moved. She couldn't even see him, just got a glimpse of his left hand, pale and palm facing up. The doctor left to join them and she was alone.

Juliette leaned her head against the wall and sobbed. It was the kind of sobbing that didn't even make a sound; it came from somewhere deep inside her chest. She couldn't even form coherent thoughts, only: _don't let him die. This is my fault, but please don't let him die._

She didn't hear when a nurse approached her. "Miss Barnes?"

Juliette jumped back and frantically wiped her tears. "Yes, can I go to Avery now?"

"I'm going to take you upstairs. There's a private patient transport elevator around the corner."

Juliette numbly followed the nurse onto the elevator. She slumped against the side of the car.

"Is that young man your boyfriend?" the nurse asked, giving Juliette a sad smile.

Juliette opened her mouth to say yes, but she remembered that wasn't the right answer anymore. "He's the love of my life."

"Oh sweetheart," the nurse said.

She brought her to the ICU waiting room which was strangely devoid of other family members for the moment, for which Juliette was grateful. She said she would be in soon to let her know when she could see Avery.

Juliette walked to the window that overlooked the medical campus. Everything looked normal outside, life moving along as it always did, the bright sun sparkling, the green trees swaying the breeze. How could that be? How could the world keep pushing forward while she was paralyzed like this? While Avery was critically ill, maybe even dying, down the hall? If only she hadn't gone to him today. If only she had left him alone like she had planned, this never would have happened.

Someone cleared her throat behind her. Juliette spun around to see the nurse standing before her with a clear plastic bag labeled "Patient's Belongings." She moved to Juliette. "We're still getting Avery stabilized but I wanted to bring you his things. These are the clothes he was wearing." She pointed inside. "I also put his jewelry in a separate smaller bag inside so it won't get lost."

"Thank you."

"We're doing everything we can for him. And I'm sure he's doing everything he can to come back to you." She rubbed Juliette's arm then walked out of the room.

Juliette sat on the couch before she fell over. She closed her eyes for a long minute before opening them again. She stared at the bag in her hands and noticed the jewelry. She took out the small bag. Inside were two items: the medals he always wore on a leather necklace, and the silver pinky ring he wore on his right hand. She carefully removed the medals. One had a picture of Jesus' mother with the words, "O Mary! Conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee!" The other had a picture of a man and the words, "St. Jude Thaddeus, pray for us." She'd never understood the medals. As far as she knew, he didn't go to church. When she'd asked him about them, he wasn't very forthcoming, only that they were a gift and that he never took them off. He said they were like armor, protection. She wished very badly that he was wearing them now. She turned them over and over, then made a decision.

With shaking hands, she put the necklace on, carefully opening and latching the clasp. Then she took the ring out from the bag. It was a little too big for her pinky, but fit perfectly on the ring finger of her right hand. She decided that she would wear his armor for him. She would fight for him, and even for this baby that could be his. There was no time for doubt anymore. There was no turning back.


	9. Chapter 9

Rayna puttered around her kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the salmon she'd just taken from the oven. She sprinkled parsley on top.

"You sure there's nothing I can help you with, Ray?" Deacon asked, walking up behind her.

"Well, I guess you can toss the salad," she said, pointing at the bowl on the counter.

"I am always happy to toss your salad." He planted a kiss on the crook of her neck.

"Is everything a double entendre for you?" she asked with a laugh.

Deacon gently walked his fingers up her back, tracing her spine. "How can I think of anything else when you and I are in the same room, nothing holding us back anymore, nothing in the way?"

The girls were with Teddy for the week and they had a rare moment alone. Rayna melted onto Deacon's shoulder. It had been a tough day, first the conversation with Juliette, then the radio interview with the station in Dallas, where one of the DJs accused her of "manipulating" Luke for her own personal gain. She'd shut the conversation down as politely as she could, but it had rattled her. As she'd expected, her reputation had taken a definite hit when she broke the engagement, but she refused to think about it anymore. Not when she had Deacon right in front of her, despite the obstacles, despite the pain of the past. They were taking things slow for now, but the future was definitely looking up.

Her phone rang shrilly, breaking the moment. Deacon kissed her on top of her head. "Can you ignore it?" he asked.

Rayna glanced down at the screen. "I can't." It was Juliette. "I'll just be a minute, babe," she said, answering and moving across the room. "How are you?"

Deacon stole a cherry tomato from the salad and popped it in his mouth. Then he noticed Rayna's face darken quickly.

"Slow down, I can hardly understand you," she said. "What? What? Did you know he had that?" Rayna paced in the living room. "The ICU at Vanderbilt. I'll be right there. Yeah, he's here with me. I'll tell him. Hang in there, honey. We'll be there soon."

Deacon's heart constricted. "That Maddie? Something happen to her?"

Rayna shook her head. "No. That was Juliette. Apparently Avery's had a serious asthma attack and he's in the ICU. She was with him when it happened."

"What?" Deacon couldn't process the message.

"That was my reaction, too. We've got to get down there." Rayna grabbed her purse.

"I'll drive," Deacon said, but Rayna shook her head.

"No, I will. Juliette needs you to get in touch with Scarlett for her."

"Okay. I think she had a writing session with Gunnar today." He pulled his phone from his pocket as they walked out the door.

* * *

Juliette sat in Avery's room in the ICU, legs up on the chair, knees hugged to her chest. She kept her distance; it seemed medical personnel were in and out all the time attending to him, checking his vitals, taking blood, talking in complicated language she didn't understand. She listened to the rhythm of the ventilator, the way it gave and took away air from Avery's body. A doctor had told her they ran it slowly so they wouldn't risk overinflating the lungs.

When she imagined telling him about the pregnancy, this was not what she thought the consequences would be, not by a long shot. She stared at Avery, who looked so fragile, all hooked up to tubes and machines. His chest rose and fell in an unnatural way. She finally got up and walked to his side, the room empty of anyone but her. She reached out and tentatively stroked his arm, remembering the way he'd pulled away from her earlier. She couldn't make sense of the image before her. Avery was always so strong, so good to her. She sensed his strength came from pain, from rising when everyone expected him to stay down. "You can do it again," she said quietly. "You're going to wake up and get out of here. I won't accept anything less." She touched her stomach. "This baby has to be yours, and that little boy or girl, they're going to need you. I'm sorry that I almost took that away from you without even asking, without even trying. I was just so scared."

There was a soft knock on the doorframe. Juliette turned to see a nurse standing there. "Miss Barnes, I have Ms. Rayna Jaymes in the waiting room."

Juliette nodded. "I'll go out to see her," she said, although she ached to leave Avery's side.

Rayna and Deacon immediately walked to her when she entered the room, worry coloring their features. She embraced them both. "Thank you for coming," she said.

"Let's sit down," Deacon said. "You look like you might pass out." He led her to one of the couches.

Juliette sank onto the cushions, and Rayna and Deacon joined her, one on her right, and one on her left. Rayna took her hand.

"What happened?" Deacon asked. "You were with him?"

"He never made the recording session today, Rayna, so I went to his place to find him. I had something important to talk about with him, and we argued, and I guess the stress of it brought on an asthma attack. He told me he'd had it as a child but no attacks since he was thirteen. Actually, he didn't tell me, he had to write it down because he couldn't talk. Took the both of us by surprise."

"It must have been bad to be on a ventilator now." Deacon took her other hand and squeezed it.

Juliette nodded. "They couldn't get his oxygen back up any other way. The doctor explained that he can't get air out of his lungs in an attack like this. He was literally suffocating."

"How are you doing, sweetheart?" Rayna asked. "You need anything?"

"I'm just so glad you're both here." She looked to Rayna. "They only let two people in his room at a time. Would you come with me?"

"Sure." Everyone rose.

"Scarlett's on her way," Deacon said.

"Good. I'm going to need her help," Juliette said.

"I'll be waiting right here."

Juliette led Rayna through the ICU to Avery's room. They entered quietly. Rayna froze at the sight of Avery.

Juliette could read her expression. "That's what you looked like, too."

Rayna brought a hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry," she said after a moment. "This is an awful situation, but I just keep thinking how traumatic this must have been for my girls."

Juliette nodded. "It was, but you're okay now, and they're okay. Focus on that." Her throat grew tight. "That's what I keep telling myself."

Rayna put her hand on Juliette's back. "You're right. Avery's going to pull through this."

She shook off the touch. "You know, when I went to see him at the studio, I never thought he wouldn't be there. He's just so damn dependable like that." Her eyes flooded. "I got a really bad feeling when I left. Driving over to his place, I was sure I'd find him dead by his own hand, just like my mama."

Rayna swallowed. "Must have been awful."

"When I found him asleep on the couch, I was so relieved. Even though he was angry when he woke up, he was alive. Then I told him the truth and I killed him instead."

The older woman took the younger by the shoulders. "That's not true, okay? You didn't do this to him."

"It never should have happened in the first place. I should have just gone ahead with my plans, but I let you convince me. I let myself believe that the worst wouldn't happen, but look at him!" Juliette gasped. "This is my fault. I told you I'm cursed."

Rayna pulled Juliette to her in a fierce hug. Juliette resisted and tried to move away, but Rayna was strong and wouldn't let her go. "I'm so sorry. I wish this hadn't happened. Neither one of us knew it was a possibility. Life can just be so cruel and unfair."

"Rayna, what if he doesn't make it? What if this baby is his and I've just robbed it of its father? What if I've lost him forever?"

"Now is not the time to think like this. Making yourself more upset won't help him, won't help you, and won't help this one," she said, lightly tapping the side of Juliette's stomach.

Juliette separated from Rayna. She wiped away a tear from her cheek but said nothing.

Rayna's phone buzzed. It was a text from Deacon. "Honey, Deacon says Scarlett and Gunnar are on their way up. You want to go and see them?"

"Yeah." She bit her lip to try and regain some composure. "Rayna, don't tell anyone I'm pregnant, not even Deacon. I still don't know what I'm going to do exactly and I don't want anyone to find out."

"Of course. I would never tell, you know that."

"Thanks."

* * *

Gunnar and Scarlett stood in the back of the elevator as it ascended. It stopped at each floor and let off more people until they were alone. "Nobody's going to the ICU," Gunnar said.

"Guess not," Scarlett said softly. She'd been stone silent ever since Deacon had called and interrupted their writing session. Gunnar hadn't felt the need to push her to talk; he was worried out of his mind for Avery, too. A year ago, he would have never thought he and Avery would be friends, but he guessed the both of them had grown up some. Even though they were very different people, Gunnar liked having Avery around, and admired his musical expertise.

He looked at his ex and was moved by the way she stared straight ahead, blinking rapidly and trying not to cry. He very gently rubbed her shoulder. "This is so terrible. I'm sure you're fighting not to explode."

"Wouldn't have much right to do that now, would I?" She turned to him. "Wish Zoe was here."

"Me too." She'd taken a brief trip home to visit family in Mississippi. They'd called her and she offered to come right back, but Gunnar said to wait and that he'd call when he knew more.

The elevator dinged at the top floor. They walked off together and found Deacon waiting for them. Scarlett threw herself into his arms.

"Honey, I'm so sorry," he said, holding her tightly and kissing the top of her head. Scarlett cried silently while Gunnar watched, helpless.

"Thanks for getting her here so quickly," Deacon said to Gunnar.

"I just can't believe this is happening," Gunnar said.

Deacon filled them in on Avery's condition during the short walk down the hall to the ICU waiting room. Juliette and Rayna were waiting in a far corner. Gunnar noticed other families in the room giving the women looks but no one said anything.

Scarlett ran to Juliette and embraced her. Now she couldn't fight the tears anymore, and they fell hot and fast down her cheeks. When she pulled back, she noticed Juliette was wearing Avery's necklace. It was jarring to see it on anyone but him, but Scarlett was glad Juliette was keeping it safe.

"Thanks for coming," Juliette said, her voice rough. She looked to Gunnar. "You too."

"Is there anything we can do?" Scarlett asked.

"You're the person who knows Avery best," Juliette said, even though admitting that hurt. "Maybe you can help me understand this."

The women sat on the couch; Gunnar and Deacon stood close by at the window. "I'm afraid I might not be as much help as you'd like," Scarlett said. "All I know is that Avery told me he'd had asthma as a child. I think he said he'd had it since he was two or three. I gathered it affected his life in a big way for a long time, but when he was a teenager, he just outgrew it."

Juliette nodded. "Okay. The doctors were asking me but I didn't know."

"Can you really outgrow asthma?" Deacon asked.

"I don't think so," Juliette said. "One of the doctors said it's more like remission, and that a lot of adults have it come back later in their lives."

"Gosh, you'd never know Avery had it. He can hit those high falsetto notes like nobody's business," Gunnar said.

"He never told me," Juliette said.

"It took him a long time to tell me," Scarlett said, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. "I think he was embarrassed. He told me he'd spent too much of his life as 'the sick kid.' But then, Avery never much talked about his childhood. I used to call him 'the man without a past.'"

Juliette nodded. Every once in a while she'd tried to ask him about himself, but Avery was very good at deflecting and changing the subject. "Well, let me bring up the question: should we be getting in touch with his family? Does he have family anymore?"

Scarlett looked away. "I don't know. He hardly ever talked about them, never called home or anything."

"So you never met them?"

"Nope."

Deacon frowned. "Scar, that didn't strike you as strange? I mean, you knew his buddy from the band, they grew up together, right?"

"Yeah, J.T. and Avery were best friends since they were ten, but they didn't talk about those times. I even asked J.T. directly why Avery was so secretive, but he didn't want to tell me much. I got the impression that J.T. might not have even really known. J.T. just told me Avery's dad wasn't very easy to live with. Something went down between them and Avery left and never looked back."

Juliette thought back to Avery's letter about how he manipulated and screamed at Scarlett, how he was scared he was turning into his father. She knew what it was like to be afraid of turning out like the person who'd raised you. "Should I even try to get in touch with someone? Maybe he wouldn't want that."

"Speaking as a parent," Rayna said quietly, "I would want to know if something like this was happening to my child, even if we were estranged. I think we have to try."

"You're right."

"Well, let's start with the basics: where's he from? Ohio, right?" Deacon asked.

"Yes," Scarlett said. "I think he said something about a town named Athens. Or near Athens. Somewhere in the southern part of the state."

Gunnar took out his phone and looked up Athens, Ohio. He wanted to try to feel useful.

"You know his parents' names?"

Scarlett nodded. "Bill and Anna."

Juliette couldn't help but feel left out, and maybe even a little envious, that Scarlett knew this about him. The rational part of her brain told her that they were together much longer, but she was hardly in a state to think rationally.

Gunnar looked up from his phone. "There's a city named Athens in Ohio, and an Athens County. You know which one he meant?"

Scarlett shook her head.

"Scar, you still got J.T.'s number? He'll know who to contact."

Scarlett got out her phone. "Let me try." Everyone waited while she called but eventually she hung up. "Out of service."

"I'll try to look up William Barkley. Or just Barkleys in general," Gunnar said.

"What about his brother and sister?" Juliette asked Scarlett. "What are their names?"

"Don't know."

Deacon shook his head. "Really? Scarlett, you were in a serious relationship with the guy and you knew nothing about him?"

"I knew that there are reasons why somebody runs. I respected that and didn't question it," Scarlett said, looking hard at her uncle.

"Deacon, how about we go and get everybody some coffee? Let the kids do some research," Rayna said, rising from the couch. He nodded silently.

Rayna reached down to Juliette's face and made her look up. "We'll figure it out."

Juliette nodded. Maybe it was false hope, but that's all she could cling to at the moment.

* * *

Juliette was in and out of Avery's room the rest of the evening. As his "support person" she would get to stay in his room on a chair that folded down. Everyone else would have to leave in a few minutes for the night. Juliette felt torn between staying by his side and needing to take a break from seeing him so ill.

She was back in the waiting room, staring out the window. Gunnar and Scarlett were huddled over his tablet, which he'd retrieved from the car earlier. Rayna and Deacon sat together on the couch, Deacon's arm around her shoulder.

They'd checked every number on Avery's phone but turned up nothing. Juliette got a jolt when she saw Avery's emergency contact was, in fact, her.

"There's nothing," Gunnar said, closing the tablet's cover forcefully. "I've tried everything I could but I can't seem to find his relatives."

Scarlett sighed. "Not one of the Barkleys we called knew him or his family."

"I can get a private investigator started on this tomorrow," Juliette said.

"You know, this explains a lot," Deacon said. "Scar, I remember the day the two of you graduated college. You were so excited but Avery didn't even seem like he wanted to be there."

"That's 'cause I kind of made him walk. He said he didn't see the point in the ceremony."

Deacon nodded. "He was acting really distant and uninterested. At the time, I chalked it up to what I thought was his arrogance. But when I was reading the program I saw he graduated Summa Cum Laude with a double major of Music and English. I couldn't believe he wouldn't be proud of that."

He was so smart, Juliette thought. It should have been intimidating talking to him, but somehow, it wasn't.

"He didn't even want to take pictures, but your Mama made him. When someone was taking ones of the three of us, he got this look on his face. Then he just walked away." Deacon sighed. "I think he was thinking of his family, probably wishing they could be there or something. I regret not saying anything. I'm afraid I wasn't much of a fan of his back then."

"Ain't it funny?" Gunnar asked. "I wasn't a fan of Avery's, either. I thought he was always trying too hard to be cool." He shrugged. "Truth be told, I was kind of envious of his confidence. We didn't really become friends until we started working together. He told me 'What If I Was Willing' would be a big hit, and it was. His instincts were always right on."

"It's amazing the two of you became friends, given the way you had a fistfight in the living room," Scarlett said. "You got the better end of that one, Gunnar."

"But Avery threw the first punch. He was always a hot-head."

Hearing everyone talking made Juliette realize how misunderstood Avery was, and how that must have been isolating. God knew she'd been there herself.

"But he's our hot-head," Scarlett said.

"Will y'all just stop?" Juliette said suddenly. "Why are you all telling these stories and talking about him like he's already dead?" Her knees buckled underneath her.

Deacon was up in a flash to catch her as she started to sob. "Hey, hey, hey," he said, holding her tightly, not letting her fall. "We are not doing that, okay? He's going to pull through this. He's a strong man, and we've all seen evidence of that. None of us are losing hope, okay?"

Juliette regained some strength and pulled away from Deacon. She hastily wiped at her tears. "It's close to the end of visiting hours. Why don't y'all go home? I'll let you know if anything changes."

Rayna walked to Juliette's side. "I don't think you should be here alone."

"I won't be alone," she said. "He'll be right there with me."

Rayna just wrapped Juliette in a hug. She looked at Deacon over Juliette's shoulder. He looked pained and threw up his arms in defeat.

Scarlett and Gunnar stood awkwardly with each other. "I guess we'll get going then," Scarlett said. "Juliette, if you need anything, you know how to reach us."

"Thank you," she said. "I'm going to head back in there with him."

Everyone said their goodbyes and quietly left the room. Juliette headed right to the doors of the ICU, but waved to the group as they walked onto the elevator. When they had left, her hand paused over the intercom button that she used to call the nurses to let her in. But instead of pushing it, she had another idea.

* * *

The walls of this floor were painted peach, and soft lighting illuminated the hallways. She followed the signs until she found the nursery. Before her, a dozen babies slept or squirmed in their bassinets, their heads covered in tiny pink or blue hats. She thought she could see their personalities already: some seemed anxious, some more mellow. One's arm had escaped the swaddling blanket and the baby banged it as if it were impatient.

Sometimes the reality of her pregnancy would hit her all of a sudden, and other times it was artificially distant. She tried so hard to make it distant. There was no way she would continue it if it were Jeff's child.

If it were Avery's, well, she wasn't sure. She had no idea how he felt about it. The asthma attack had interrupted everything. What if he didn't want to be a father? What if he wasn't ready? She sure as hell wasn't ready to be a mother. Then again, there wasn't much in her life she felt ready for.

What if Avery didn't survive? This baby might be a way for a part of him to live on, a way for Juliette to go on. But what kind of life would that child have, never knowing their father? It didn't seem fair to Juliette. Nothing was fair. Juliette placed her hand on the glass. Why did life keep putting her in these impossible situations? What had she done to deserve this?

She heard footsteps walk up softly and stop near her. She didn't look up.

"Juliette?"

She turned. It was Doctor Davis, her OB/GYN. "Oh, hi."

The doctor turned to make sure no one was around before speaking. "I thought you were heading to Denmark tomorrow."

"I thought so, too. I had a slight change of heart. I went to see my ex to tell him I was pregnant. I thought I might see if he would take a paternity test, but the stress of the news brought on a terrible asthma attack." She gestured above her. "He's upstairs in the ICU right now on a ventilator."

"Wow. Juliette, I am so sorry."

"I wanted to come down here, see something happy."

"I just finished a delivery and was on my way out."

"Don't let me keep you," Juliette said. "But, can I ask you one question?"

"Sure."

She spoke quietly, worried that saying it out loud would put the idea out in the universe. "What if he doesn't make it? Could I still have the paternity test?"

"I'd really need his consent to run the test, or if that's not possible, the consent of his next of kin."

"That's a problem, because I have no idea where they are." She ran a hand through her hair. "You couldn't get the blood they've already taken and just run an extra test on it?"

"No. Not without permission."

"God, what am I going to do?"

The doctor pulled Juliette closer and spoke under her breath. "You did not hear this from me, okay?"

Juliette nodded.

"Sometimes DNA tests can be run from other sources, such as hair or fingernails. But they're not as reliable, and they work better after the baby's born." Her face was serious. "I'm sorry I can't offer you more, Juliette. This is a terrible situation, but he's in the best place right now, getting the care he needs. More than likely he'll come out of this okay, and you won't need to resort to desperate measures."

"I hope we'll get that chance."

"Promise me you'll go upstairs now and get some rest. You need to take care of yourself, Juliette, so you can take care of him."

"Thanks, doctor. I promise I'll go up in a minute."

"Let me know what happens. If he recovers and agrees, I'll come up and draw blood from you both myself." She squeezed Juliette's arm and then left.

Juliette stared at the babies for a few moments longer. None of them knew how hard life was, how much they'd have to overcome. Welcome, she thought. I wish you all of the love in the world. You're going to need it.

* * *

Avery had no idea how he'd ended up in the water. It was the Hocking River, he was sure. He opened his eyes but saw nothing but brown. He struggled against the current that was carrying his body down river, but he wasn't making progress. The water was so cold, so strong.

He couldn't breathe. If only he could surface, he'd be able to get some air into his lungs. He thought they were on the verge of bursting. His chest ached, and panic was clouding his judgment.

He couldn't figure out which way was up. There was no light that he could see. He kicked and thrashed, looking for a sign.

Somehow he heard something other than the rushing water. Someone was calling his name. I'm coming, he thought. Don't leave me. He swam in the direction he thought the sound was coming from.

He was fighting so hard, fighting with everything in him. One breath, that was all he needed. I'm here, he thought. I'm here!

* * *

"Avery," Juliette said. "Avery, I know you're in there. Let the medicine do what it's supposed to. Let the machine breathe for you. Your body needs rest now." She gently pushed a lock of hair from his forehead. She sighed, wishing she could see his blue eyes just once more. "Everything in my life has taught me that the worst will always happen, that there's nothing I could ever count on. Nothing ever lasts." She whispered. "But then you came along. My beautiful exception."

She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. "I need you to keep being exceptional. I've never met anyone like you, and I know I never will again. There's no one else for me."

Juliette reached down and took his hand. "Come back to me, love. I promise I'll be waiting right here."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Wow, ten chapters already. Back when I was working on chapter two I outlined the rest of the story (three hand-written pages), and there's still a lot more to come, a lot I'm looking forward to writing. I have a feeling it's going to be a little harder once Season Three starts in a couple weeks but I want to see this through. As always, thanks for reading.**

* * *

Juliette groaned as she rolled over on the hospital chair. Even though it folded down into a bed, that didn't make it any more comfortable. Night number two was even worse than the first. She'd slept erratically, exhausted but waking frequently when medical personnel came into the room to attend to Avery. She didn't want to miss anything even though they promised to wake her if something important was happening. Once she'd been roused by the sound of someone weeping in the room next door.

Staring at him lying so still in the hospital bed, she wondered if he hurt. Intellectually, she understood he was sedated, but she knew if you were breathing, you were probably hurting. He might be screaming somewhere in his mind. You never knew what was going on under the surface.

Over the past couple of nights, she'd prayed a lot, even though she felt she didn't have the right. If God was listening, she asked him to ignore the messenger and only to think of Avery, his kindness, his decency, how much he was still needed here. During the day, others came and joined her in the vigil: Emily and Bo, Scarlett and Gunnar, Deacon and Rayna, Glenn. It struck Juliette that these were the only people they had in the world, and how grateful she was to have them, that they stuck around even when she gave them reasons to give up.

Except Avery did have other people in the world: a mother and father, sister and brother. She assumed they were all alive, but she couldn't be sure. Glenn had hired a private investigator to find them, but she hadn't heard anything yet. A tiny part of her wondered what it would be like to have family like that and to just walk away. She'd tried to cut her mother out of her life a thousand times but couldn't do it. Despite the fact that she felt Avery knew a lot about her, there was still a lot she didn't know about him.

She heard a soft knock and saw Glenn standing in the doorway with a couple of bags in his hands. "Morning," he said to her.

Juliette pushed off the blanket and sat up. "What time is it?"

"Around nine." He put the bags on a chair and walked to Avery's side. "Morning, buddy," he said, and Juliette loved him for talking to Avery, for acknowledging his presence in the room.

"Any word from that private investigator?"

"I've been keeping in close contact, but he's found no leads so far. The next step would probably be putting him on a plane to Ohio, except we're not entirely sure exactly where he should go."

"Well, Athens County. How big can it be?"

"The P.I. says it's very rural. It's in the Appalachian Mountains."

"He mentioned mountains once."

Glenn motioned to the bags. "That's a change of clothes from Emily, and a blueberry muffin for breakfast."

"Thank you," she said, crossing the room. She hoped maybe eating would quell the nausea she was still battling. Pregnancy plus extreme anxiety wasn't a great combination. She dug into the paper bag until she found the food.

"Juliette, why don't you take a break from here for a little while? You'll sleep better in your own bed."

"I went home yesterday."

"For half an hour to take a shower. That's not enough. You know they're taking good care of him here." He shook his head. "I worry about you."

Juliette brought the muffin to her nose and inhaled. She was trying to block out the strange antiseptic smell of the hospital.

Glenn sat down in a chair near Juliette. "I know things have been awful, but you never told me just what is going on between you two. I know it's none of my business but I can't figure it out. You split up, then he comes to see you in the ER; he's arrested for his fight with Jeff but you won't contact him, then you go to his place and have an argument and this happens. There's something missing here. What am I not getting?"

Juliette swallowed a bite of the muffin. She was torn between telling Glenn and keeping the secret for a little while longer. But she hadn't even had time to talk to Avery about it, and it didn't feel right discussing this with anyone else before him. "It's complicated," she said. "All that matters now is making sure he gets better."

"Yes," Glenn said, but wasn't placated.

They both stood up when a doctor walked into the room. Juliette recognized him as the pulmonologist. "Good morning, Ms. Barnes," he said and stood at the foot of Avery's bed.

"Good morning, Dr. Choletti," she said, and motioned to Glenn. "This is my manager, Glenn Goodman."

"Nice to meet you." The doctor took a quick glance at Avery's vitals on the monitor. "I wanted to come in and give you some news."

Juliette's stomach clenched.

"Avery's oxygen levels have improved significantly over the past thirty-six hours. I'm going to start weaning him from the ventilator. He's recovered enough to be able to breathe on his own, but we'll take it slow."

Juliette reached out and grabbed Glenn's hand. "Thank God." She felt a little faint but took a deep breath.

"The respiratory therapist will be handling the bulk of it, but I'll be supervising."

"Thank you, thank you," she said.

The doctor nodded. "He's going to have a long road ahead of him, but we've gotten him through the worst of it. I'll see you soon," he said, leaving the room.

Juliette turned to Glenn and hugged him tightly. "This is the best news I've gotten in months."

"Absolutely." He gave her a squeeze. "What do you want me to tell the P.I?"

Juliette thought for a moment. "Tell him to hold off going to Ohio for now. If I can talk to Avery, I'll see if he wants his family here." She turned to look at him. "Avery, you'll be off this thing today."

* * *

Juliette stood outside of Avery's room. The ICU area was a circle of rooms with a large nurses' station anchoring the middle. They'd asked her to leave for the process of extubation. Throughout the morning and afternoon the medical team had been reducing Avery's sedative and paralytic medications and he was slowly regaining full consciousness. Juliette could hear the respiratory therapist speaking to Avery, trying to orient him.

"Avery, you're in the ICU at Vanderbilt. You had a bad asthma attack and we needed to put you on the ventilator for a couple of days. It's time to take the tube out."

She wished she could be inside with him, hold his hand, something, but they thought it might be upsetting for the both of them to see each other at this moment.

"Good. This is the last suctioning pass we're going to do. I know it's uncomfortable." Juliette shivered at the thought of what they were doing to him, as necessary as it may have been.

"You're gagging. Honey, this is normal. Don't panic, it's temporary."

Then she heard what she thought sounded like retching. "That's it, Avery, that's it, almost there, good! The tube is out. Relax, relax, the hard part is over. We're giving you a nasal cannula now with oxygen."

She wanted to run into the room but she had to wait. But then, the creeping anxiety that had been on the edge of her mind all day suddenly burst forth. She didn't know what to expect. Would Avery remember why he had the attack in the first place? Would he hate her, blame her, for essentially making this happen? What if he wasn't the same?

A nurse popped her head out of the room, breaking the crazy cycle Juliette was running on. "You can come in now."

Juliette took a deep breath and walked in.

What a huge relief it was to see Avery without the breathing tube, to see him open his eyes, even though it was clearly a struggle. She walked to his side and took his hand gently, as he had an arterial line in his wrist, which was taped to a board.

"You remember who this beautiful lady is, Avery?" the nurse asked.

Avery squinted and turned his eyes to her. "Ju- Juliette," he said, his voice incredibly hoarse and ragged.

Her name never sounded so beautiful. Tears sprang to her eyes. "Yes, baby, it's me. I'm here. I've been right here the whole time."

"You did such a good job, Avery," the therapist said. "What a brave man you are. Try to rest your voice right now, okay? Your throat probably hurts."

His eyelids grew heavy and were closing. "I couldn't breathe," he said.

"I know," Juliette said. "But you're getting better."

"I was drowning in the river." He closed his eyes.

Juliette gave a puzzled look to the therapist.

"He's confused. One of the side effects of the sedative we gave him is hallucinations. He'll be okay. Give him time."

"He's got all my time," Juliette said, rubbing small circles on his thumb.

* * *

He woke up coughing. Slowly, awareness of his body, of pain, began poking into his consciousness. The IV needle in his right arm jabbed him when he moved. His left wrist was hyper-extended by the board it was taped to for the arterial line. Dear God – he had a Foley catheter. He kept coughing, which hurt like hell, as he slowly opened his eyes. The lights were so bright.

When his eyes focused, he saw Juliette standing at his bedside with a pink kidney-shaped basin. She held it up to him. "Hey. They gave you this for, um, 'clearing secretions.'"

He took it and spit into it. His throat burned. Then he handed it back to Juliette, who gingerly placed it on the rolling table beside his bed. "Good morning," she said. "How you feeling?"

Avery blinked, trying to come up with something. "Like I've been tortured." He saw how her face fell at his words. Her hair was tangled and her eyes were glassy and red. "You look about the same."

"It's Thursday," she said. "Did you know that?"

He remembered waking up yesterday with the ventilator tube still in, panicking, wanting to pull it out. Then the extubation, which really _did_ feel like torture. But wasn't it just Monday? "Three days?" he finally asked.

"Yup. You were still out of it last night, mostly slept, which is what you need." She sat down in a chair beside the bed.

Avery tried very hard not to look at Juliette. She had that same look on her face that his parents so often wore when he was a child: like they were trying to hide how terrified they were, hide how much hell he had put them through. "I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?"

"For doing this to you. It's an awful thing when someone is sick." He'd almost said, 'when someone you love is sick' but that wasn't what she felt for him anymore.

"Avery, this isn't your fault. We both know that." She kneaded the edge of his blanket in her hands. "It's my fault."

Her fault? He couldn't process this for a moment. Then his mind went tumbling backward until he could picture himself in his apartment, reeling from the news that Juliette was pregnant. He inhaled sharply, which caused his chest muscles to tighten.

Juliette touched his arm. "You in pain? You want me to get a nurse?"

Avery forced himself to exhale, remembering years of respiratory therapy. He knew hyperventilating would only make his situation worse. He shook his head. "It's okay." He shifted on the bed, every muscle stiff. "How are _you_ feeling?"

"I'm fine," she said woodenly.

"Will we ever be able to talk to each other again?"

She turned to him, puzzled. "What?"

"I want you to start at the beginning, Juliette." He paused, eyes distant. "You're pregnant. You obviously knew before I did, so you've had more time to think about this. Talk to me honestly, for once. How did you find out?"

Juliette drew in a shuddering breath. She pulled up her knees to her chest, hugging them to herself until she was a tight little ball. "How can I start? How can I tell you this?"

Avery looked away from her. "I'm a nobody anyway. Should be easy to talk to someone you don't care about."

"That's not true," she said in a small voice.

"Really?" he said with more force than he meant. His throat hurt so badly. "You sure as hell told me so downstairs in the ER not too long ago."

"I'm sorry," she said. "Just let me explain."

"They got me pinned down on this bed like a bug. I ain't going anywhere."

Juliette looked at him with a trembling lip, but she didn't cry. "That's where I found out: down in the ER. Never in a million years did I think I was pregnant. But for whatever reason, the pill failed. I was devastated, scared. My mind was spinning with a million different scenarios. Then you walked in."

Avery could still picture Juliette in the bed, staring at him like a wounded animal. "Go on," he said quietly.

"I knew the baby could be yours or it could be Jeff's. I was horrified that I was in the situation. I mean, how much more trashy can I get? Playing 'who's the daddy?'" She scoffed. "I thought I'd left that life behind."

Despite all the trappings that wealth and fame had brought her, Avery knew Juliette was still that girl from the trailer park, the one who had fought and scraped to escape, the one who carried the scars from that experience forever. Damn it, a tiny bit of compassion was seeping into his mind, and that was the last thing he wanted. Not after the way she'd treated him.

"Avery, all I knew at that moment was that I did not want to be a mother. That I wouldn't be a good one even if I tried. There was no way. I decided I would get an abortion and never think about it again."

"And you weren't going to tell me?" He could feel his heart racing, a combination of fear, anger, and the powerful medications he was on.

She shook her head. "No. You would have been reasonable about it. You would have convinced me to calm down and not make any rash decisions. You would have sacrificed yourself and your future to make sure I was okay, and that was the last thing I wanted for you." She hugged her legs tighter. "So I made sure you'd want nothing to do with me from then on. I said all those terrible things to you to make you leave."

Avery was silent for a long time. He turned his head on the pillow to face her, fire in his eyes. "So you lied to me. Again."

Juliette nodded her head. "I know." She sighed. "It was only later on that I took some time to think, and Rayna guessed I was pregnant. She convinced me that I needed to tell you the truth."

"She knows? Who else?"

"Nobody but my doctor. I still don't know if I want to have this baby, Avery, but I couldn't take not knowing if it was yours, if there was some slim possibility that the worst wasn't going to happen."

Avery fought the tears rising in his throat, his eyes. "I don't know what I'm supposed to feel right now. Should I be happy that you don't really hate me? That it was all pretend? But how the hell can I reconcile that with the fact that the person I love most in this world has lied to me over and over? That she doesn't trust me at all?"

"I trust you," she said, looking up abruptly.

"You'd never know by the way you've been acting. Words mean nothing."

"I don't agree with you. Words mean a lot."

He brought his right hand to his chest and coughed again. Phlegm rattled in his lungs, but he ironically knew that this was a good sign, that things were opening up after the attack.

"I went to you with the truth. I'm sorry that it was too late. I'm sorry that I nearly killed you in the process."

Avery closed his eyes. "I can't think about that right now."

"I've been sitting right here these past three days, sleeping here. I've had a lot of time to think, and the biggest regret I had was that I might never get the chance to apologize to you, to let you know that I didn't mean what I'd said. You _are_ somebody. You're my whole world." She got up from the chair and stood beside him. "I was making the decision without you. It was wrong to do that. I have no excuse."

Fatigue and pain were pressing down on him, hard. He coughed again. "It's your body," he said. "I have no right to tell you what to do."

"But we could have talked about it. I could have done things a lot differently." She reached out and gently touched his face.

Avery stiffened but he couldn't move.

"Maybe there's no hope for us anymore. I get that. But maybe, maybe there's hope for this one," she said. She stared hard into his eyes.

The thought that he might be a father was too much to take at the moment. It would mean so many things: he'd have to get his shit together; he'd have to deal with so much crap from the past; he'd have to have a relationship with Juliette for the rest of his days. If he was her world, she was his, too. No one could make him happier; no one knew how to destroy him the way she could. "I'll take the test," he said.

Juliette inhaled. "Really?"

"Let's just get the facts together. Then we'll deal with whatever comes next."

"Okay."

He couldn't take the spark of relief he saw in her eyes.

"There's something else we need to talk about, then I'll leave you alone."

"I'm tired, Juliette."

"I know, but it's important." She adjusted his blanket. "I thought I should be calling someone. I've been trying to find your family."

Avery jolted on the bed. The wires pulled at his skin. "Ow!" he said as pain shot through him.

"Take it easy," she said, pushing on his shoulder. "Lay down."

Avery's hands shook. "I don't want them here."

"I just thought they should know. I didn't know if you were going to make it," she said, her voice strained. "I couldn't find them, anyway."

"Good."

"Are you sure, Avery?"

He turned his head away from her. "I'm fucking positive."

* * *

Avery had just finished a session with the respiratory therapist; the lung function tests indicated some improvement. Juliette had stood in the corner and watched. The world of hospitals and medical testing was foreign to her, but Avery seemed like an old pro. That made her a little sad.

Another doctor then poked her head into the room. "Hi, Juliette. Is now a good time?"

Juliette smiled. "Hey, Dr. Davis."

Avery opened his eyes to the new person. She wore peach scrubs and a long white lab coat.

"Avery, this is my OB/GYN, Dr. Christine Davis. Dr. Davis, this is Avery Barkley, my – " She had no idea how to finish that sentence.

"You're here for the paternity test," he said, cutting Juliette off.

"I got the okay from your doctors to take a blood sample." She looked to them. "You're both sure you want this?"

"Yes," Juliette said quietly. Avery just nodded.

"Okay then. Avery, I'll start with you. I'll draw blood from your arterial line as they've been doing since you've been here."

"Beats being stuck again," he said. Dr. Davis quickly got her equipment together and drew the blood. Avery wondered how much he'd given over the past few days. He watched the red liquid slowly filling up the tube. The course of his life would change in an instant when the test came back. Truth be told, he was terrified of either result.

Juliette looked away as the doctor drew Avery's blood. She considered herself a tough woman, but some things she didn't want to see.

"Okay, all set," the doctor said when she had finished, removing her gloves and placing a label on the tube. "Your turn, Juliette."

Juliette froze. She rubbed her arm.

"Come on," the doctor said, motioning to the chair by Avery's bed and putting on new gloves.

Avery saw the look in Juliette's eyes. "You okay?"

Juliette mumbled something and looked down.

"I didn't hear you," he said.

"I said I'm afraid of needles." She glanced at him briefly. "I know it's stupid. Look at everything you're going through."

He motioned her over with his head. "Who likes getting blood drawn? It's normal to hate it."

Juliette gingerly sat down in the chair. She rolled up her right sleeve and the doctor cleaned her arm with an alcohol wipe before tying on a tourniquet. "Make a fist," she said, and Juliette did but closed her eyes.

Then she felt Avery take her left hand. He laced his fingers with hers. "Tiny pinch," the doctor said as she inserted the needle. Juliette squeezed Avery's hand when the pain came, and it meant the world to her that he squeezed back.

* * *

Avery and Juliette had both dozed off later that afternoon, so they didn't hear the pulmonologist enter the room. "Ms. Barnes?" he asked, lightly touching her shoulder.

Juliette woke with a start. "I'm up!" she said loudly, waking Avery.

"What?" he asked, voice still hoarse.

"Sorry to wake you both," the doctor said.

Juliette wiped the sleep from her eyes. "It's okay, Dr. Choletti."

"How are you feeling, Avery?"

"Not great," he croaked.

"We have some things to discuss. Would you like it to be just the two of us?"

Avery blinked and shook his head. "Juliette can stay. I don't know if I'll remember everything. I'm still pretty out of it."

The doctor nodded. "As you wish. Ms. Barnes didn't know much of your medical history. Can you fill me in?"

Avery's demeanor became very flat. He spoke slowly. "I guess I had my first asthma attack when I was two or so. I don't remember it. I used to be in and out of the hospital a lot as a kid."

Juliette thought Avery seemed detached, but didn't say anything.

"Any previous intubations?"

"Four or five? I don't know for sure."

"Oh my God, Avery," Juliette said. "You poor thing."

He shrugged. "It was just the way things were."

"Where were you treated?"

"I'm from a rural part of Ohio. When the local hospital couldn't handle me, I went to a children's hospital in Columbus."

"I assume you had all the usual medications?"

"Inhalers, nebs, Prednisone, antihistamines. Over and over."

"And you achieved remission spontaneously?"

"I outgrew asthma when I was thirteen. It just stopped."

"We used to think children outgrew asthma but that's not the case anymore. Were you having any symptoms recently?"

Avery paused. "Now that I think of it, maybe. A friend and I went running and I felt a little breathless. My friend said I was wheezing but I didn't believe him. I think I had a little trouble a few times after that, but I wasn't paying attention to it."

"Has the asthma been induced by exercise before?"

"I mean, as a kid. It's been so long. Of course, anything seemed to trigger it back then." Avery hoped the interview would be over soon. All of this talking was tiring and made it harder to breathe.

"Any idea what you think might have triggered it this time? A fragrance or chemical? Exposure to a known allergen?"

Avery and Juliette locked eyes. "I've had a lot of stress in my life recently. We were arguing and I guess it was just too much for my body to take."

"Stressful emotional situations can be triggers," the doctor said, "but that wasn't all of it in this case." He turned to Avery. "Are you sure you want Ms. Barnes here as we discuss this?"

Avery frowned. "Yes. Is there something really wrong? Am I sicker than just asthma?"

Juliette's pulse started to pound in her ears and her hands grew clammy.

"Avery, we tested your blood and urine when you were admitted. We ran a tox screen, and you had evidence of recent cocaine use."

Avery froze; Juliette stayed absolutely still and quiet.

"Avery?" Dr. Choletti asked.

"Once. It was only once."

"Once is enough, especially for someone with your medical history."

Avery couldn't look at the doctor or Juliette. He focused on a small spot in the corner of the room. "I know I have no excuse, but I was really drunk that night and I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."

The doctor sighed. "That is a deadly combination. Alcohol and cocaine combine to make a toxic chemical in the body. They make the effects of each stronger. There's no doubt in my mind this attack was brought on by your cocaine abuse."

Avery felt accused. "I'm not an addict. It was one time, and believe me, I never want to do it again."

"You are incredibly lucky you didn't have instant respiratory arrest, or a heart attack. Yet you are still paying the price."

He hung his head. "I already know what a loser I am, what my choices have cost me. You don't need to remind me."

"Avery, I am not judging you as a person, let me be clear. But I am concerned about your mental health as well. You will see a substance abuse counselor while you are here. Your lungs are slowly recovering from the attack, and we'll step you down to a regular room tomorrow, but I'm afraid your asthma is back for good. You might not have a remission again."

He was shutting down. "I get it."

The doctor wrote something in Avery's chart on the nearby computer. "Let's see how the next few days go. We'll get you started on steroids by mouth instead of IV for starters, and we'll get you up and around." He looked at Avery. "I know this is a shock, but I hope it will be the wake-up call that you need to take better care of yourself."

Avery nodded curtly and the doctor left.

Silence weighed heavily in the room. Avery's eyes flickered to Juliette's. Her hands shook as she got up from the chair. She moved rigidly to his side. "Seems there are some things you weren't going to tell me, either."

"Why would I?" Avery looked away. "And I'm not exactly in the best shape for talking right now."

"Cocaine, Avery, really?" Juliette's pulse pounded so loud she could hardly hear; it was just this whooshing sound blocking everything. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

He shrugged. "Just looking to kill the pain. You know all about that."

"Don't you try to turn this around on me. There's a lot I know about drugs. Shit you can't even imagine. You could have been hooked instantly. Could have stroked out, could have had a psychotic episode. Could have killed someone, killed yourself." She hugged her arms around her waist. "All that stuff in the email about 'please let me die?" You high when you wrote it?"

Avery raised an eyebrow, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh my God. You don't even remember. You had me freaking out that you were going to hurt yourself, that you were depressed and it was all my fault!"

"It is!" Avery said. "It is your fault!"

Juliette staggered backwards. "You don't get to blame me for your fucked-up decisions." She quickly wiped away a tear that was running hotly down her cheek.

"You think I would have made that decision in the first place if you hadn't lied to me over and over again? Made me think I was worthless? I gave you everything I had." He started breathing more rapidly.

Juliette looked away from him. "I always told myself I would never get involved with someone who uses drugs. Never."

"I'm not an addict!" Avery was quickly losing his voice.

"You almost _died_, Avery! From drugs! You were going to leave me here, just like her!" Juliette buried her face in her hands.

Her words hit him like a body blow. He struggled to get a breath out. A monitor started beeping loudly behind him. Shit. He pressed the call button for a nurse.

Juliette looked up, startled by the monitor.

A nurse walked quickly into the room. "Avery, what's going on? Your heart rate's up and your oxygen sats are dropping."

"Need an inhaler," he gasped.

Juliette moved to the far side of the room as the nurse retrieved the inhaler for Avery. He took the medicine and lay back on the pillows. Soon he was breathing better.

"Setbacks are to be expected," the nurse said. "Don't get discouraged. You need to rest." She looked at Juliette.

"Don't worry. I'm just leaving," she said, picking up her purse.

The nurse nodded and left the room.

"Juliette."

She shook her head. "Avery, don't. I can't. I just can't." She gave him one last look and quickly walked away.

Avery's hands wouldn't stop trembling: from the medication, and from what had just happened. He withdrew to a place deep inside himself, a place light couldn't touch. He had a flashback to an argument he'd had with Scarlett, the words she'd said that he'd never forgotten: "You hurt people. People who do not deserve to be hurt."

She never knew just how much he agreed with her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry it took me a little longer than normal to finish this chapter, but I hope it's worth the wait. I appreciate each and every one of you that reads this. Can't wait for Wednesday when the show comes back.**

* * *

Avery shifted listlessly on the hospital bed. Every part of his body hurt; no position was comfortable. The hiss of oxygen was the only noise in the room. Scarlett had brought over an iPod and a book the day before, but he couldn't concentrate. He didn't turn on the TV, didn't talk to the nurses who came to tend to him. He just wanted to be left alone.

It had been a couple of days and he was making some progress: he'd moved to a regular room; they'd removed the arterial line and the catheter; he received nebulizer treatments a little less frequently. The weakness shocked him, though. He had to call a nurse every time he needed to use the bathroom because it seemed his legs kept buckling underneath him. He couldn't go very far without being short of breath and found it near impossible to sleep. He'd finally broken down and asked for a pill the night before just to get a few hours rest.

Illness had a way of breaking down normal boundaries. Any sense of modesty was lost: God knew who'd seen him naked, who'd handled him when he was unconscious; he had to literally lean on a rotating cast of people he didn't know to help him handle the most basic tasks. Sometimes it felt like he was handing over control of his own body. He was powerless.

To make matters worse, the substance abuse counselor came see him the day before. Avery felt awkward and agitated around him. He thought the guy didn't believe him when he'd said he'd never done cocaine before and wouldn't again. The counselor was a persistent questioner, asking about why he'd been "drinking heavily" in the preceding weeks. He kept asking if Avery had felt angry, tired, or anxious. He said that depression manifested itself differently in men, that they were more likely to find relief in substance abuse and "risky behaviors." Avery admitted to him the darkness that had overcome him after the cocaine wore off, and the counselor said that was a common symptom, and why cocaine was so addictive so quickly. People would do anything to avoid the deep depression that followed the high, so they would seek out more of the drug and the cycle would continue. But Avery wouldn't tell him what was really wrong, and he felt they were both frustrated by the conversation.

He hadn't heard from Juliette since the night they'd argued about the drugs. Sometimes he'd pick up the bedside phone but he couldn't seem to call. He'd thought about sending a text but he didn't know who had his phone. Even a letter seemed beyond him at this point. He just couldn't stop picturing the betrayal in her eyes when she'd left.

There was a soft knock at the door. "Come in," he said, although he still had a little trouble with his voice.

Deacon poked his head into the room. "Can we join you?"

Avery didn't see anyone with Deacon. "Sure. Who's we?"

"Just me and my shadow," he said, opening the door fully. He walked in and Daphne followed close behind.

Avery smiled. "Your shadow looks more like sunshine to me."

"Hi, Avery," Daphne said, approaching his bedside but standing at a distance.

"Miss Daphne," he said. "It's nice of you to come visit." He raised the head of the bed a little to see better.

She smiled but didn't seem to want to look at him directly.

Deacon sat down in a chair beside the bed. "This one here came to my house with her Mama to pick up Maddie after a guitar lesson, and when she heard I was coming to see you, she insisted on coming along."

"Is that so?" Avery motioned to Daphne. "It's okay to come closer."

She moved to his side and pointed. "What's on your wrist?"

Avery glanced at his arm. "This is a pressure bandage. They had to put a tube in my artery, but they took it out yesterday. Now this bandage is pressing on there to keep me from bleeding. It should come off in a few days."

"What about your face? You have some bruises around your eye."

Avery didn't want to explain this to Daphne. He was embarrassed. "That was from something else. They're fading. Doesn't even hurt anymore."

Daphne looked at him steady. "I was really worried about you."

"I'm sorry to make you worry."

"I've been practicing piano every day. I miss our lessons."

"I do, too. I promise when I'm better we'll start up again."

"How you been feeling?" Deacon asked.

Avery turned to him. "Getting there. Still weak and short of breath, though."

Deacon shook his head. "Never in a million years would I have guessed you had asthma. Your breath control when you were singing was incredible."

Avery coughed. "Worked really hard on that. I thought I'd outgrown the asthma, that it was just a kid thing."

"You had it when you were a kid? That must not have been fun," Daphne said.

"Sure wasn't. I can't tell you how many times I was in the hospital back then. I even had a birthday there once."

Daphne's face darkened. "I don't like hospitals." She looked around the room. "Reminds me too much of when Mom was here."

Deacon and Avery shared a worried look. "I'm so sorry about that, honey," Deacon said.

"It means a lot to me that you came today. I know it's hard," Avery said.

"I hope you get to leave soon," she said.

"Me too."

There was another knock at the door. Everyone looked up to see Gunnar and Zoey standing there. "Hey," Gunnar said. "We can come back later."

Deacon shook his head. "Perfect timing, actually." He turned to Daphne. "Daph, these are my friends Gunnar and Zoey. Maybe you can take them for a walk around the floor for a few minutes?"

Daphne sighed. "I get it. You want to talk to Avery alone."

"It's just boring grown-up stuff, I promise," Deacon said.

Daphne walked over to Gunnar and Zoey. "Hi."

"It's a lovely afternoon for a stroll around the hospital," Gunnar said, extending his arm to her gallantly, which she took.

"I love your sneakers," Zoey said.

Deacon and Avery both smiled at them as they walked away. Then Deacon turned to his young friend. "So, Scarlett said she came by to see you yesterday but you weren't very receptive."

"I'm still not feeling great. Doesn't put me in the best mood."

"She also said Juliette wasn't here. That she hasn't been here since Thursday."

Avery looked away from him. "She's probably not coming back, Deacon."

"What? We couldn't get her to leave your side for ten minutes."

Avery grew quiet and shifted on the bed. "We had a pretty big blow-up. Everything's going to shit."

"I know y'all are in a very difficult place in your relationship right now, but I hope you'll consider how much she really does care about you. I was here a lot with her when you were on the ventilator. Girl was devastated at the thought of losing you."

"Not anymore," Avery said. "I made a decision that had consequences that I never imagined at the time. This being one of them."

"You want to tell me?"

Avery looked at Deacon. "You're going to be upset."

"Try me. Lord knows I've done my share of fucking up."

Avery played with the line leading to the pulse-ox on his left hand. "You remember when we were driving to Shotgun Sally's and you were talking about that look people give you when you disappoint them? That's how she looked at me two nights ago."

"You remember everything I say?"

"The important stuff."

Deacon had sensed that Avery understood what he'd said deeply, maybe more than he would ever acknowledge.

Avery rubbed his eyes. "Let me preface this by saying I know what I did was wrong, but I went ahead and did it anyway. I was just out of my mind after the arrest and everything. I went out with the guy I'm producing, Evan Rider, and his girlfriend. They set me up with this girl, and long story short, I got really drunk, so when she presented the cocaine to me, I didn't say no."

Deacon set his jaw. "You did cocaine?"

"One stupid fucking line. That's it. But Juliette and I found out from the doctor that it probably caused me to have the attack, compromised my lungs. That and all the stress I've been under."

"You're right, that _was_ fucking stupid. You want to throw your life away?"

"I wasn't out looking to score, Deacon. I'd never done cocaine before and I won't again." He shrugged. "And maybe I did want to throw it away. Didn't have much to live for anyway."

Deacon stood up. "That's bull! I _told_ you to call me."

Avery glanced at the man he was still in awe of, a man he considered a mentor and friend. "There's the look," he said.

Deacon ran a hand over his mouth. "I know you didn't anticipate any of this happening. But you've got to understand what this must be like for her, to almost lose you like this, and to know drugs played a part."

"I get it. But at the time, she'd rejected me completely. I thought there was no future for us. Well, at least no future for me."

"I don't like it when you talk like that."

"Deacon, I've been close to death many, many times before. The whole 'I've been given a second chance, isn't life a miracle' thing wore off when I was eight."

"That's pretty cynical."

"I'm tired of people telling me how grateful I should be, or expecting me to be enlightened or peaceful or whatever. When you're sick, life can seem pretty crappy, not like some gift to be treasured."

"Things will get better. It's normal to be down at a moment like this."

"I'm slowly realizing that this is my life now. Or, it is again. The medications, the hospitalizations, the uncertainty, it's all back." Avery looked out the window. "I'm not even sure if I can sing."

Deacon snapped his fingers, drawing Avery's attention. "Listen to me. You'll sing again." His eyes clouded over. "After the accident, Rayna thought she'd lost her voice. Just another thing I took from her. But she worked with a vocal coach and it came back. It'll be the same for you. We'll make sure of it."

"That's not even the thing that's got me worried the most. God." Avery bit his lip. "I don't want to say anything, but if I don't, I'll explode. It might be my partially my news anyway. Just promise me you won't tell anyone."

"I promise. What's wrong?"

Avery looked Deacon in the eyes. "Juliette is pregnant."

Deacon inhaled. "Wow." Then he winced. "Hate to ask this question – "

"We don't know yet. We did a paternity test. The results should be in soon."

Deacon briefly thought of the situation with Maddie, how everything could have been different if Rayna had only shared those paternity test results. But that was neither here nor there right now. "A lot of things are clicking for me. I knew she was hiding something and pushing you away."

"I thought so too, but when she was saying all that nasty stuff to me, she sure sounded convincing."

Deacon shook his head. "She's put you through the wringer lately."

"Understatement of the year."

Deacon hesitated before speaking. "Do you have a preference for the way this turns out?"

Avery thought for a moment. "I don't know. It won't be good if it's Jeff's. I'm afraid it's just going to be another confirmation to Juliette that life always fails her, that she's cursed. I don't want that for her." He coughed. "If it's mine? I'm not sure. No way am I ready to be a father, but I wouldn't walk away from my child." He looked down. "This all might be a moot point. I don't know if she'll go ahead with the pregnancy."

"That is a lot to take in," Deacon said. "I'm sorry."

"Guess I'll handle it as it comes."

"One day at a time."

"Rayna knows, but that's it. Please don't tell Juliette I told you."

"I won't say anything."

Avery pushed at his blankets. "I wonder if she'll even let me know the results, or ever speak to me again."

"I'm sure she will. Give her some time."

"Hope you're right." His voice was strained. "I don't know how much more I can take. I'm just so fucking tired of picking myself up and starting over."

* * *

Juliette caught a chill from the wind as she walked. It wasn't actually cold out, but the place always made her feel that way. She had to remember how many rows she'd passed, the placement of trees, before she found the right area.

When she reached her mother's gravestone, she stared at it for a long time. Reading her name and the years of her life, all too short, felt both inevitable and horrific. Though it had been a little over a year since her passing, Juliette could almost taste the pain, as fresh and piercing as the day it arrived. She knelt on the ground and traced the letters of her name with her right hand. "Hey, Mama. Sorry it's taken me a while to come see you. I don't like it here."

The air around her was silent, the grounds empty of people. "I want to talk to you. I spent so much time ignoring you during your last months. I regret it more than you know." Her mouth felt dry. "I didn't trust you. You never gave me much reason to before." She smoothed the front of her jeans. "There's so much I wanted to ask you, questions I never had answers to. Like, what ever happened to Daddy's flag?" A tear slipped out and she batted it away quickly. "I don't really remember much from his funeral, but I remember the guns going off and I remember them giving you his flag. I really, really wish I had it."

Juliette knew it was probably lost somewhere, or stolen. Maybe her mother got rid of it in her grief, tried to wipe out everything, everyone from that time. She never could see it before, but she really was a lot like her Mama: when they hurt, they wanted to obliterate every memory, by whatever means necessary.

"Everything's such a mess," she said softly. "When is it not? God, Mama, I'm pregnant." She wrapped her arms around herself. "You know, if you were here now, I think you'd be happy for me, even if you were a young grandma. But there's a problem. I don't know who the baby's father is." She reached out and rubbed her hand on the stone. "And I can't see going ahead with it if it's Jeff's, being tied to that awful man for the rest of my life." She bit the inside of her cheek, and noted the iron taste on her tongue. "But this is my first chance to be a mother. Is it even a baby yet? If I find out it's Jeff's, and I terminate, would that be killing my first child? Isn't that the worst thing a mother could do? But wouldn't it also be awful to raise the child and have it be a living reminder of one of the worst mistakes of my life? Would I resent it? That's no way for a kid to grow up. A child deserves to be cherished."

Her lower lip trembled. "And if it's Avery's, I don't know. He was using drugs, drinking, and I can't live with that, but I know I pushed him to it. It's not like him. I just can't believe he'd be so reckless. He almost died. He almost left me, and this child." Juliette waited, willing the universe to be merciful, to let her hear her mother's voice one more time.

Of course it never came.

Juliette shook her head. "The problem is I love him," she said, unconsciously echoing Avery's words from weeks earlier. "And if this took place under different circumstances, when I was ready, when he was, I would be thrilled. When I dared to imagine my future, he's the one I always saw by my side." She inhaled and could smell the fresh-cut grass of the cemetery grounds; it seemed incongruous for a place so haunted by death. "I don't know if we'll be able to work it out. We've hurt each other too much." She rose and brushed off her knees. "But this tiny part of my heart can't give up on him. On us. Not yet." She gave the tombstone one last look. "Love you, Mama. Thanks for listening."

* * *

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. So many people took breathing for granted. Hell, he had too, once the asthma had cleared in his teens. But now, all he could think about was getting oxygen into his lungs. He focused on the elevators at the end of the hallway. A nurse held onto his arm as he walked on shaky legs. He was giving it a try without the portable oxygen tank, and even though it was hard, he wanted to make it, wanted to prove that he could do it on his own.

"Doing okay, Avery? Want to take a break?" the nurse asked.

"No. I'm fine," he said, although it came out a little breathless. He focused on those elevator doors. Even though his chest felt tight, he kept pushing, but when the doors opened and Juliette stepped off, his breath caught in his throat and he stopped abruptly. Their eyes locked.

"Avery?" the nurse asked. "You all right?"

Exhale. "Yeah."

"Hey," Juliette said. "Good to see you up and around."

"Just going for a walk around the neighborhood," Avery said.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all."

She motioned to the nurse. "I can get him back to his room, if it's all right."

The nurse looked at Avery and he nodded. "Okay, you take it from here," she said, letting go of Avery's arm after Juliette had taken the other.

Neither one said anything as they walked. Avery didn't know how to start the conversation. He focused on keeping his balance; having Juliette see him like this, weak and sweaty, embarrassed him.

When they reached his room, he sat heavily on the bed. "Thanks," he said.

She poured him a cup of water from the plastic container on his rolling table. "Here. Looks like you need it."

Avery took the cup and drank it slowly. "Never thought walking down the hallway would be a challenge. I feel like I'm a hundred years old."

"Baby steps," Juliette said, then they both looked away, the words unintentionally charged.

When Avery finished the water, he set the cup on the table. "I didn't think you'd come back," he said finally.

Juliette pushed the table aside and then sat next to him on the bed. "I needed some time to think."

"Yeah."

"I've lain awake the past few nights going over everything, trying to figure out what I wanted to say to you."

Avery looked straight ahead at the wall.

Juliette sighed. "And I don't know what to say. I just can't stop being angry. I can't believe that you'd be so reckless and dumb."

"Funny. I've thought the exact same thing about you."

Juliette nodded, even though his words stung. "We each made an epically bad decision when we were wasted, when we thought we'd lost each other."

"I don't think it's fair for you to judge me for things I did when we were apart. And we weren't apart when you slept with Jeff. You hadn't lost me."

She turned her body toward his. "But I thought I had." She made a fist with her left hand, her nails digging into her palm. "I never told you this, but after our fight, after I'd cooled off a little, I went looking for you. I let myself into your apartment but guess what? You weren't there."

Avery's stomach sank. "Juliette – "

"Let me finish, Avery. So, I waited all night for you but fell asleep on your couch. When I got up in the morning, you weren't there. You never came home." Her voice was strained. "And then I thought, 'He's with her.'"

The tone of Juliette's voice chilled his blood.

"And I go to the hospital, and sure enough, there you were, right by her bedside where you'd been all night, holding her hand, telling her she'd always have a place in your heart." She whispered. "What the fuck was I supposed to think about that?"

The pain in her eyes ripped him open, but didn't absolve her actions. Avery spoke softly. "Maybe you should have thought you were eavesdropping on a private conversation, one you had no context to understand."

"Excuse me? My boyfriend is telling his ex that he'll always love her and I'm supposed to just calmly stand by?" She started to stand up, but Avery grabbed her arm.

"I never said I'll always love her." He stared straight into Juliette's eyes. "You misunderstood. What you heard was a conversation about letting go of the past. A conversation between two people who had shared a serious relationship for a lot of years, but grew apart. She grew up and I didn't."

Juliette opened her mouth to speak, but Avery held up his hand.

"I treated her terribly. I took her for granted; I manipulated her feelings for my own benefit. She did nothing but support me, but when she finally had an opportunity to do something for herself, I couldn't handle it. I wanted her to stay the same and I tried to guilt her into doing so."

"You're being too hard on yourself."

"No, I am not. Juliette, you've got to understand this. There hadn't been one day since I broke up with Scarlett that I hadn't _hated_ myself for what I'd done to her. Sure, I tried to act like I didn't care, but I was fooling myself. I turned into someone I couldn't stand. So, I left him behind. I swore I would be different, and that I'd make it up to her, to everyone. I wouldn't be that guy anymore." He shook his head. "Then when her mother showed up, damn, it set off alarm bells. That woman's done shit you can't even imagine."

Juliette snorted. "Probably can."

Avery nodded, conceding the point. "But you didn't know her, I did. And I know what having her around does to Scarlett. I should have been paying more attention. I realized Scarlett was drunk right before the show and I tried to get you, I tried to stop her from going out there, but fucking Charlie Wentworth distracted me and damn it, it was all my fault." He buried his hands in his hair.

"And here I thought it was all my fault for making her go on. Isn't that what you told me?" Juliette said, folding her hands in her lap.

"No. I told you what you implied when you said 'that's how the business works.' That's it."

"Sure didn't sound that way."

"Look, I'm trying to explain something here." He sighed. "After I left your place, I drove around for a while thinking about how awful it must be for her to be in that hospital with her mother hovering over her, with no one there who knew what she'd really done to Scarlett. To be in the place she'd always feared she'd end up. I didn't want her waking up alone. Or worse, with her mother there. So I went to her room and they let me stay. She wasn't awake all night, I was. At least, until sometime just before sunrise when I dozed off." He coughed. "I wasn't sitting there pining for her. I wasn't remembering our past relationship. All I was thinking about was how I'd fucked up her life, again. She's the one who surprised me when she woke up, all that stuff about being her first love. After everything, I didn't think she thought of me that way. It was a moment to acknowledge the past. That it wasn't all bad."

Juliette sat rigidly. "Closure, huh?"

"Yes. Closure. We had a place in each other's lives, and that place won't be replicated. But I didn't want her and she didn't want me."

Juliette pressed her lips together, thought for a moment. "Here's the thing I think you forget. I might not be your first love, but you're _mine_."

Avery felt a little lightheaded hearing Juliette say that. He'd never believed it was true, that a nobody like him could be her first real love.

"And you left me that night. Didn't come back. You didn't think of me at all."

He nodded. "You're right. I didn't. Not until after that conversation. That's when it dawned on me what my actions must have looked like to you. I waited at your house for hours that night. I came to you the next day. I owned up to it and apologized."

She dropped her head. "You were too late."

His voice cracked. "I was. Just another example of the way I hurt everyone I love."

"Hey." Juliette looked up and touched his arm. "You do a lot more than hurt people."

Avery looked at Juliette: he could see the strength in her posture, a strength that was purchased at much too high a price; the flashes of light and darkness in her eyes; the wild beauty in all of her features. Even when his head was all screwed up, even when the pain was too much, he couldn't look at her and not be moved.

Juliette's phone rang in her purse, breaking the moment. "Sorry," she said. She left the bed and dug in her purse until she found it. She paused when she looked at the caller ID before answering. "Hey, Dr. Davis. Yeah. We're both here. Room 5103. Thanks." She hung up then looked at him with wide eyes. "She has the results and is coming to talk to us."

Avery brought a hand to his chest. "Okay." He motioned to her. "Come here."

She sat down again. "Whatever happens," she started.

"We'll face it, here, together."

* * *

They had sat silently on his bed for ten minutes before the door to the room pushed open. Dr. Davis walked in carrying an envelope. "Hi, Juliette, Avery."

"I appreciate you coming, Dr. Davis," Juliette said. "I know it's a Sunday."

"It worked out perfect. I'd just finished a delivery when I got the results from the lab."

"And?" Juliette reached over and grabbed Avery's hand.

She opened the envelope. "And the results are conclusive. Avery is this child's father."

Juliette gasped. She'd been bracing herself so hard for bad news that she almost didn't consider the possibility it could go the other way. Then she felt Avery's hand shaking. She turned to him. His eyes swam with tears. "Oh thank God," she said, squeezing his hand.

Avery didn't say a word.

"Juliette?" Dr. Davis asked. "You just let me know what you decide, okay?" She handed her the paper. "This is yours. Call me in a few days."

"Thank you, doctor," Juliette said. "I will."

"Glad you're improving, Avery," Dr. Davis said. "Hope you won't have to be back in here anytime soon."

He nodded to her, but still couldn't speak. She left quietly.

They both sat there for a long time, just looking at each other. Finally Juliette couldn't take the silence anymore. "Avery? Will you just say something?"

"Do you – do you want to keep it?"

"Yes," she said, the word rushing out almost without thinking. Except all she'd done lately was think about this one question. "I know we didn't plan this. I know it's happening at the worst possible time. But yes, I want this child, our child. You might not be ready, and that's okay. I can raise it on my own, you don't even have to be involved – " She was interrupted when he put a finger to her lips.

"Don't you say that. I would _never_ walk away from my child." His eyes suddenly darkened. "I'm sorry I never asked this before. When are you due?"

"January 18th, give or take."

He stiffened as something hit him. "I'm not going to be there."

Juliette frowned. "What do you mean? You just said you'd never walk away."

His face crumbled. "Not willingly. But I'm sure I'll be in jail by that point."

Juliette hadn't considered this. His arrest seemed so far away after everything else that had happened. "You don't know that."

"I do. I won't be able to be there for you, for this baby. What kind of father isn't there for the birth of his child? From the second that he or she is born, I'll just be letting them down." A tear slipped down his cheek.

"You'll be there," she said, stroking his arm, not certain she was telling the truth, but wanting to believe it anyway. "You will."

Uncertainty colored his features. "This doesn't feel real," he finally said.

"You and me," she said, "Mama and Daddy."

They sat in silence. There was nothing more to say.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Now that Season Three has started, it's almost freeing knowing that this story is nothing like what they're doing on the show. This chapter has a scene in it I've been anxiously awaiting to write, so your comments are especially appreciated. Thanks for reading.**

* * *

Juliette stood in front of her couch and fluffed the throw pillows, grouping them three on the right, two on the left. Then three on the left, two on the right. She pulled out her phone and looked at the time. When was everyone going to show up? Wasn't she the boss?

Finally she heard the front door lock click and soon Glenn and Emily's voices. "Good morning," Glenn called.

"In here," she responded.

Glenn, Emily and Bo walked into the living room and sat down. They exchanged looks. Juliette smiled tightly.

"How's Avery?" Emily asked.

"He's getting there. I think he might be discharged soon." Juliette sat down slowly.

Glenn tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. "I always get nervous when you call a meeting like this, so just spill."

"Why do you always assume the worst?" Juliette asked.

Glenn looked at her over the top of his glasses.

"Fine." She smoothed back her hair and sighed. "You know that the three of you are like family to me, right? I know that you work for me, but I'd honestly be lost without you."

Bo and Emily smiled at her but said nothing.

"And I have some news that's going to change everything around here." She tried her best to smile. "I'm pregnant."

The three of them gave her silent, shocked faces.

"Well, isn't anyone going to say something?"

"Congratulations?" Emily asked.

Glenn took a long minute before speaking. "So you and – "

"Avery and I are going to have a baby, yes." Juliette could see Glenn relax a fraction.

Finally Bo broke out in a grin. "This is excellent news. I'm so glad y'all are getting back together. He's good for you."

Juliette traced a line on the couch cushion. "I wouldn't go that far. We're not together. But he wants to be involved in this baby's life, and I want him to be, too. We'll take it as it comes."

Emily left her seat to give Juliette a hug. "Okay, congratulations for real. Oh my God, you're going to be a mom."

Juliette smiled at her when she pulled back. "Still can't quite wrap my head around it."

Glenn swallowed. "How far along are you?"

"Ten weeks. Everything's going well health-wise. I'm due the middle of January." She touched the side of her cheek. "Won't be able to hide it much longer. I already look different."

"You know, I thought your face was filling out. I thought maybe it was stress eating," Emily said, but quickly shut her mouth when Juliette glared at her.

"This is going to be a challenge. You've got tour dates lined up soon, you need to get to work on the next album," Glenn said.

"I can still do all that, at least for a little while."

"It's going to change the show tremendously. You won't be able to do those big production numbers."

"So they get put on hold for a while. My fans loved the acoustic set I used to do with Deacon. We'll figure it out."

Glenn stared off into the distance. "We're going to have a media circus on our hands. A celebrity baby is always a huge deal, particularly after the year you've had."

Juliette nodded. "I know."

"When Avery's out of the hospital we'll need to have a discussion. This is going to change his life, too."

"You're going to need more security," Bo said. "I'll start researching options."

"You're definitely going to need a nanny. Oh, and the nursery, and finding a pediatrician," Emily said.

Juliette held up her hand. "I know. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"But that's our job," she said. "Setting things up for you. Making it as easy as possible."

"And I appreciate that. I know I'm making y'all's lives harder, though."

Glenn reached out and touched Juliette on the knee. "We're always here for you, kiddo. Don't worry about anything."

Juliette looked at them all, convinced that family wasn't always about blood. It was about who you chose, and who chose you.

* * *

Avery scrolled through his phone, which Juliette had returned the day before. His mind felt sharper than the past few days, but his body still felt wrecked. Even so, he was off the oxygen and that was an improvement. What was not was the tremendous amount of medication he was now on. A nurse had given him a full printed schedule for when he went home: what pills and inhalers to take and when, what to do if one medication didn't work, on and on. He realized his mother had borne the brunt of this when he was a child. He didn't know how she'd done it, taking care of him and his siblings at the same time.

A tiny part of him thought about calling her, letting her know another grandchild was on the way, but there was no chance of reaching her without going through his father first. And his mother had been very clear about where things stood the night he'd left. There was no going back from that.

He opened his email instead. He quickly deleted all of the junk before lingering over the Sent Mail button. He remembered Juliette saying he had written her, but he had absolutely no memory of it. He pressed it reluctantly, scared of what he would find.

Sure enough, there it was, an email sent the night he went out with Evan. He took a breath and read.

When he'd finished, he clicked the phone off. It was rare to see his internal thoughts without a filter, but he guessed the drugs had scraped off the last layer of skin, leaving him raw. He knew it had to be hurtful to Juliette to read this, even if it was true. He could see why she'd thought he was suicidal. And damn, he really hated himself, didn't he? If you hated yourself, could you ever really love someone else?

The question had been torturing him since the day before. He knew how much Juliette hated herself now, and that hate got in the way of everything that was good between them. And his self-hatred did the same thing, sent him running that night to Scarlett's side out of guilt. The two of them were fucked. How in the hell were they going to raise a child without completely screwing it up? Without raising a kid that hated himself, too?

Then the door quietly pushed open. Juliette came in with a brown paper bag. "Hey."

"Hey." Avery pushed back a piece of hair from his face.

"I brought you some lunch. You must be sick of hospital food by now."

"Sick of this whole place. Can't wait to leave."

She pulled over his bedside table and opened the bag. "Turkey and ham on that soft bread you like."

"Thank you." He took the sandwich from her and unwrapped it. "The steroids make me want food constantly, but since I didn't eat for so long, it makes my stomach hurt right after I do."

"Stomachs shrink like that," she said, opening her own sandwich. She was ravenous but didn't want to eat it quickly in front of Avery, who was taking small bites.

"Got a phone call from my lawyer earlier. Looks like my hearing is next Thursday." He put down the sandwich.

"Are you sure he's good? I could get you someone else."

Avery shook his head. "He's good. Deacon knew him. I just don't know what's going to happen. He's trying to get the charges reduced, but either way, I'm going to plead guilty."

"Why?" Juliette put down her food. "He provoked you. Don't they take that into consideration?"

"I threw the first punch. I threatened him in front of a room full of witnesses. There's no way I could say I didn't."

"Deacon told me he was talking shit about me and that's why you hit him," Juliette said. "This is all my fault."

Avery looked down. "He was talking shit about me, too. I'm the one who made that choice. There's no one to blame but myself."

"There are so many things I wish I could go back in time and undo," she said, more to herself than to him.

Avery exhaled. "Whatever. We can't."

Juliette blinked, stung. "I'm trying, Avery."

"Trying what?"

"To bridge this gap between us. We've both hurt each other so much."

Avery stared at her. "We have. And me almost dying isn't going to change that. You being pregnant isn't going to change that."

She stared right back. "You don't have to be cruel about it."

"I'm being realistic. Everything's fucked up right now and I have no control over any of it." He put a hand to his stomach and winced. "There's the pain."

Juliette went back to her sandwich because damn it, she was hungry, and so she didn't have to look at him.

A voice called from the hallway. "Hello, Avery."

They both looked up as Dr. Choletti entered the room. He smiled at them. "I come with good news. I've just put in your discharge papers. You'll be leaving this afternoon."

"Thank you," Avery said. "I didn't know it would be that quick."

"It would do you more harm than good keeping you here a minute longer than needed. Can't risk you catching an infection. I've arranged for all your prescriptions to be filled by the hospital pharmacy so they should be up soon. Any questions about the protocol?"

"No, sir," Avery said. "I got the paper from the nurse. It'll just take some getting used to again."

"Make sure you call my office for your follow-up in a week." The doctor motioned to Juliette. "I'm sure you'll take very good care of him. He's going to need a lot of support over the next few weeks."

Juliette blushed. "Oh, uh, we don't live together."

The doctor frowned. "You live by yourself, Avery?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not comfortable with you being alone right now. You're having trouble ambulating, for one. If you were to have another emergency, you might not be able to help yourself. This was a major attack that you're going to need time to fully recover from. Are you sure there's no one whom you could stay with?"

"He can come home with me," Juliette said.

Avery glanced at her and started to say something, but she silenced him with a look.

"Good, then. I want you to continue your progress, Avery. Hopefully we'll be able to get the asthma under better control, but you must do your part."

"Understood," he said.

"A nurse will come when you're ready for discharge. I'll see you next week," the doctor said, then left the room.

"I ain't going home with you," Avery said.

"Were you not just listening to the man? You can barely walk. You need somebody to help you."

"I can get one of those visiting nurses or something."

"Okay, and you'll hire someone to stay around the clock? Even if you could, where would they sleep in your apartment?"

"I don't know!"

"My point." Juliette took out her phone. "You're not arguing with me. I'm going to text Bo to come here and pick up the key to your place. He'll get some things for you so you can stay with me, at least for the next couple of weeks."

Avery looked out the window. Just another way this illness was taking away control over his own life. But deep down, he knew Juliette was right. There was no way he could be alone right now. He just worried what it would be like to be alone with _her_.

* * *

Juliette and Bo followed the orderly that was pushing Avery's wheelchair out of the elevator into the lobby. She carried a large bag of medications. The lobby was busy, filled with people, and Juliette hoped no one would notice or approach her before they left.

Avery was slumped in the wheelchair. Even though he knew it was normal procedure, he still felt embarrassed that he wouldn't even be able to make this walk if he tried.

Bo turned to Juliette. "Let me go get the car. I'll be right back."

"Thanks." The orderly came to a stop just before the lobby doors.

"We're just waiting for the car to be brought around," she said. "We can take it from here."

"Are you sure?"

"Bo's a former Marine. He'll be able to get him in the car, no problem." She smiled at the orderly who then left.

Avery squinted when he looked out the doors. "Feels strange to be out in the world again."

"Bet you'll enjoy some fresh air."

A couple of loud male voices rang through the lobby. The men were approaching quickly from behind them. "Mr. Fordham," one said, "we appreciate the donation Edgehill Records is making. It's more than generous."

"It's our pleasure to support the finest hospital in our hometown."

Juliette and Avery both froze at the sound of Jeff's voice.

"We'll be in touch with more details, but thank you again."

"See you soon," Jeff said. He walked forward but stopped abruptly when he saw them. "Juliette! Fancy meeting you here." He looked down at Avery. "Avery, what happened? You look like you've been ill."

"You stay away from us," Juliette said, unconsciously reaching down and gripping Avery's shoulder.

Jeff rubbed his jaw, and Avery could see he still had a bruise from where he'd decked him. It was a little victory.

"I should be saying that to your ex here, my attacker."

Juliette rolled her eyes. "Come on. Why won't you shut the fuck up and leave us alone?"

"Such language," Jeff said.

Avery knew he shouldn't say a word to him, not with a pending court date, but he couldn't help it. "Go away. You are a sick, twisted man." He pointed at him with his left hand. "You are never to speak to her again."

Jeff caught his wrist and turned it over. It still had the pressure bandage on it. "Now I understand. Suicide attempt. She's so not worth it."

Avery snatched his arm away. Juliette lunged at Jeff but Avery pushed the wheelchair back with his feet so she couldn't reach. "You don't know anything about him!" Juliette was nearly yelling. "He is a good man, and everything you'll never be."

"And he'll certainly never be a man like me, either," Jeff said as he adjusted a huge gold watch. "Have a lovely afternoon, children." He strode out the front doors.

Juliette sank to her knees in front of Avery. "I'm sorry," she said, laying her hands on his lap. "I can't believe I let that scumbag into our lives."

Avery wouldn't look at her. "Let it go," he said, although his body burned with anger and shame.

Juliette tried for a moment to make him look at her, to let him know that she didn't care about Jeff's money or power, that it was never about that, but Avery was resolute and wouldn't meet her eyes. She sighed. "All right." She stood up and saw Bo had brought the car around. "Time to blow this place."

* * *

Bo walked Avery over to the couch, even though Avery had insisted that he could do it on his own. Hell, Avery thought, Bo could have carried him in like a baby. They'd come to know and like each other over the last year and Avery knew Bo was one of the good guys. He was glad Juliette had him to protect her. Avery sank onto the cushions. "Thanks."

"You okay for now? Need something?" Bo asked.

He shook his head. "I'm fine. I know it's the end of your shift. Go home. We'll be okay."

Bo nodded. "Robert's out front for the overnight if y'all need him." He sighed. "You scared the crap out of us, Avery. We're all glad you made it through."

"Sorry. It scared me too. Thanks for being concerned."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Avery nodded to him as he walked away.

Juliette emerged from one of the bedrooms into the living room area. She hadn't had time to prepare for Avery coming to her home, so she did the best she could, putting his clothes in the chest of drawers, making sure there were enough pillows on the guest bed. She came and sat on the couch with him, but at the other end, keeping her distance. "So Glenn's here, down in the office. He needs to speak with us."

Avery rubbed his eyes. "You told him?"

"Yeah. Emily and Bo, too." She tentatively rubbed her midsection. "Of course, everyone's going to know soon."

They heard footsteps approaching. "That's why we need to talk," Glenn said, walking into the living room and sitting down across from them in a chair. "First of all, Avery, I'm glad you're improving." He turned to Juliette. "And I'm glad that everything's going well so far, that you're healthy and the baby's healthy."

Avery took a throw pillow and held it to his chest when he coughed. It helped ease a little bit of the tension in his muscles.

"But now we need a game plan. I know it's difficult to discuss business when it's such a personal event, but that's part of the life of a celebrity."

"I know people are going to be interested," Juliette started.

"Not only interested," Glenn said. "They're going to be judgmental, condescending, intrusive. I promise we'll do our best, but you're not going to have much privacy, I'm afraid. Now we have to decide when and how to announce this."

"I'm still in the first trimester. It's a little early, right?"

"I'd say you have a few more weeks. Once you're safely into the second, that's when we give the interview."

"Interview?" Avery asked.

"The best way to handle this from a P.R. perspective is to make sure that we're the first to report it. We can't risk someone leaking the news before we put our own spin on it. I thought that's why we'd give a magazine an exclusive first. You have a good relationship with _People_."

"I do," Juliette said.

"So we get a reporter here, sit down with them and give them our version of events. Get some pictures of the two of you, tell your love story."

Avery's eyes grew wide. "What?"

Glenn looked hard at Avery. "As far as the world is concerned, you are Juliette's boyfriend. I don't care what you two do, but you have to appear to be together, at least until sometime after the baby's born."

Juliette shifted on the couch. She glanced at Avery but didn't like the bewilderment and anger on his face.

"That's why I'm glad you're living here, at least for the time being," Glenn said.

"I don't know if this is a good idea, Glenn," Juliette said.

"It's our only option, Juliette. I talked over all of this with Makenna, and she feels this is the best strategy."

"Strategy?" Avery asked. "These are our lives you're talking about. We're not characters in some book."

Glenn sighed. "Avery, I thought you might have thought about these things when you got involved with Juliette. She's a star. People are always going to be analyzing her and prying into her life. That includes you now."

Avery looked down. "I don't like lying."

"Listen to me." He tapped Avery on the knee so he'd look up. "If you ever loved Juliette, you will do this for her."

Juliette exploded. "Enough! This is some sexist bullshit right here. I am allowed to have a child with whoever I want, and if I'm not with the father, so be it."

Glenn turned to her. "I get that, I really do. The way the media treats women is totally unfair. If you were a male celebrity who got a woman pregnant, they might look the other way. But you pay me to think long-term, to watch out for your career. After everything that happened with Charlie and then the misquote, you're on very shaky ground. You're still winning back the trust of your fans, and you can't risk losing that progress. I'm telling you that this is what's best. Hell, you can 'break up' once the baby comes, but for now we need a united front."

Juliette couldn't read the expression on Avery's face. He appeared to be shutting down.

Glenn ran a hand over his goatee. "Now, I'm an old-fashioned guy. Have the two of you thought about marriage?"

"Excuse me?" Avery asked.

"Glenn, stop," Juliette said. "It's 2014. Lots of celebrities have kids without being married. Look at Jessica Simpson, she had two."

"She was at least engaged at the time, and she did eventually marry their father."

"I'm not talking about this anymore," Juliette said. "It's stupid. Avery just got out of the hospital. Give us both a break."

"You're going to drive me to my second heart attack, Juliette," Glenn muttered. "We haven't even discussed how Avery's arrest and trial are going to look."

Avery just closed his eyes.

"No more, Glenn. I think it's time for you to leave," Juliette said, rising.

He got up. "Listen, I care about both of you, and about this child. Don't let temporary feelings impact your future. Think rationally about this."

"Goodnight, Glenn," Juliette said, fire in her voice.

He sighed and took his leave.

Juliette turned to Avery, who looked exhausted, his head resting on the back of the couch. "I shouldn't have let him come over tonight. It was all too much."

Avery opened his eyes. "Glenn's only looking out for you."

She put a hand to her head. "Right now, I only want to look out for _you_." She smiled tentatively at him. "I've set you up in the guest room. Can I get you anything? You hungry? Is there something you want?"

He shook his head. "I'm okay for now." Then he paused, considering. "Actually, what I really want is a shower. You've probably noticed how disgusting I am right now. I think I got maybe one sponge bath from a nurse a few days ago and I feel gross."

"You do kind of smell," she lightly joked.

"I'm sure I do," he said.

Juliette thought a moment. "I don't think a shower's the best idea, at least until I can get one of those chairs for you to sit on. But how about a bath? My tub is amazing, it has those massaging jets."

"Okay. I'll need some plastic wrap to cover the pressure bandage. Can't get it wet."

"Sure."

"At least it comes off tomorrow."

Juliette walked back into the kitchen to retrieve the wrap. She felt a little better being useful to Avery. "Just give me a few minutes to get it all set."

"Thanks."

* * *

Juliette wrapped her arm around Avery's waist as they walked through her bedroom to get to the bathroom. "You okay?" she asked, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Fine," he said, although his face showed his fatigue. "Should we even be doing this? You know, is it too much weight for you?"

Juliette shook her head. "It's no problem. I mean, I think later on you're not supposed to lift heavy things, but I'm just letting you lean on me."

When they reached the bathroom, she sat him down on a small bench. The room was steamy and warm. She'd filled the tub with water and found the shampoo and body wash he had left there when they were still together, which she hadn't had the heart to throw away.

Avery tried to catch his breath from the exertion and laid his head back against the wall. "I'm so tired," he said.

"Well, this will relax you and maybe you'll sleep better tonight." She knelt down and started untying his shoelaces.

"This is the worst part of being sick: having to rely on other people to do even the smallest things, like taking off your shoes."

Juliette removed them. "I'm happy to, really. I mean, you've always taken such good care of me, it's time I returned the favor."

"Wasn't any favor," he said.

She couldn't respond. Instead, she concentrated on taking off his socks, then rose and started tugging on his shirt.

"I can do it myself, Juliette," he said, and he pulled it off.

"Well, this isn't strange, is it?" she said, looking away quickly at the towels.

"Nothing you haven't seen before," he said, taking off his pants. He stood up in only his boxers, gripping the wall for balance.

Juliette helped him walk over to the tub, where he slowly took off the underwear. She held his hand for support as he raised one leg over the side of the tub and stepped in. When both feet were in, he lowered himself into the water. "God," he breathed as he sank down. He kept his left arm, wrapped in plastic, out of the tub.

"That feel good?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"I have some washcloths here," she said, putting one up on the side of the tub.

His eyes were closed. "I don't know if I have the strength to even use it. Just let me lie here."

She picked up a pitcher she had stationed by the tub. "We have _got_ to wash that hair. Let me do it."

When she returned from filling the pitcher in the sink, she saw Avery had cracked open his eyes. "You got out the crystal for me? This is the fanciest bath I've ever taken."

She shrugged. "It's all I had." She moved back and kneeled behind him. "Close your eyes, I don't want to get water in them."

Avery complied and she poured the warm water over his head, wetting his hair. Then she picked up the shampoo bottle and squeezed some into her hands. She slowly began massaging it onto his scalp, rubbing slow circles, making it foam. She felt a moment of peace, doing this tiny thing for him.

"The steam in here is good. Helps me breathe better. When I was a kid, if I was having an attack, my mother would bring me into the bathroom and turn the shower on hot, full blast, so the steam would reach my lungs, open them up."

Juliette didn't say anything. She wanted to know why he'd never spoken of her before, of any of his family, but she sensed now was not the time to ask. Instead, she got up and retrieved more water before kneeling again. "Okay, I'm going to rinse it out. Eyes shut tight." She poured the water over his head, washing away all of the shampoo. She saw that some of the water had run down the front of his face, and she used her fingers to wipe away the rivulets. He opened his eyes as her fingers touched the delicate skin around his nose.

Those blue eyes still stole her breath. They held so much intelligence, so much passion. She thought he could see into the secret heart of her, the sinews and muscles, right down to the marrow in her bones. No man had ever made her feel that before. Their gazes locked for a second, but then he looked away.

She picked up a washcloth and wet it in the water before applying the body wash. She rubbed it vigorously to work up a lather. "If you can sit up a little, I can get your back." He did, and she rubbed the washcloth slowly over his shoulders, his back. She could feel his ribs underneath the cloth and realized he'd lost a lot of weight. She continued and came around the front to his neck, his arms. The crook of his right elbow held large purple and green bruises from the IV he had for so many days. As she gently rubbed the washcloth over his chest, she could see a few more, fading from his fight with Jeff. She felt him quivering at her touch.

She rinsed the cloth in the water and applied more wash. "I was thinking of the last bath we took together. I think that was when it happened."

He looked to her. "What do you mean?"

"Chicago. I'm pretty sure it's when we conceived the baby. We got a little carried away and there was no condom that time."

A few different emotions crossed his face at the same time: realization, sadness, maybe even a touch of wistfulness. "I thought we were covered, you know, by the pill."

"Me too." She moved down to his legs, her hands submerged in the warm water. "But you know, I'm glad it was then. That was our last happy time. This baby was conceived in love, and that will never change no matter what happened next."

Avery was silent as he laid his head back against the edge of the tub.

She slowly ran the washcloth over his legs and thought she could feel that the muscles had atrophied some from all the time he'd spent in bed. "Avery, I was so scared when you passed out in your apartment. Your lips were blue, and I couldn't tell if you were breathing. I actually tried to give you mouth to mouth, hoping you'd be able to take the breath into your lungs. And I thought, 'This might be the last time my mouth will ever touch his. This will be the last time I'll ever feel his body close to mine. I'm going to lose him.' I don't know if you fully appreciate just how close you came to dying."

Avery didn't respond, but she saw him blinking rapidly.

She moved down and took one of his feet in her hands. "I feel like I should be washing your feet with my tears." She looked up at him. "Do you remember that Bible story? I think it's from Luke. A sinful woman hears that Jesus is having dinner somewhere, so she goes there and washes his feet with her tears and dries them with her hair." She gently massaged one foot, then the other, with the washcloth. "We didn't read the Bible in my house, but Miss Carrie took me to church sometimes, and I remember hearing that one. I thought it was beautiful."

Avery's voice was hoarse. "And do you remember what he said?" He took a shaky breath. "'Her many sins have been forgiven because she has shown great love.'"

Juliette looked up and saw his lip trembling before his face crashed into tears. He dropped his forearms into the water, splashing it everywhere. He started to sink.

She quickly dropped the washcloth and ran to the front of the tub. She reached down into the water and hauled him up under his arms. She held him tightly, the water from his body soaking her shirt. He was shaking. She pressed her face close, her cheek on his. "Baby, I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Soon she felt tears running down her cheek, and she couldn't tell if they were hers or his.


	13. Chapter 13

Juliette and Emily returned to her house after rehearsal. Glenn was sitting down in the living room reading. "Hey," Juliette said as she walked in, dropping her purse on the couch. "Was he okay?"

Glenn nodded in the direction of Avery's bedroom. "Yeah. We had lunch together but he went to lay down right after. Been asleep for hours."

Juliette sat down. Since the night he'd been released from the hospital, silence had fallen over them. It wasn't an uneasy silence, but she knew they were both acting guarded since he'd broken down in the bath. They hadn't spoken about it, and really, what was there to say?

Glenn tapped his fingers on his chair. "You know, Juliette, I was thinking, once the news of the baby comes out, I bet we'd get you the cover of _Fit Pregnancy_, no problem."

"Might be something to look into," she said. She played with a bracelet on her arm. "I don't know if I'm anyone who should be giving women tips, though. I'm not gonna lie, this whole thing makes me nervous. God knows what people are going to be saying about me."

"That's why we've got to do this interview. We'll control it from the start. I'll set it up as soon as your doctor gives you the okay."

"Your appointment with Dr. Davis is Friday," Emily said, looking at her phone. "Five o'clock, after all of her other patients have left."

"The day after Avery's hearing." Juliette sleepily laid her head against the back of the couch. She'd been battling some significant fatigue and the rehearsal had worn her out. She'd just closed her eyes when she heard screaming. She bolted off the couch.

The three of them took off running for Avery's bedroom. Juliette threw open the door and found him thrashing on the bed, deep in the throes of a nightmare. He wasn't saying anything, just letting out a horrible, guttural yell, as if he were in a lot of pain. "Avery!" she shouted. "Avery, you're dreaming!"

Glenn approached the bedside and shook one of Avery's shoulders. "Son, wake up!"

Avery roughly pushed Glenn's hand away and woke up abruptly, eyes wide open and searching. He propped himself up on his wrists, then groaned, clutching the left and falling back onto the bed. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and he wheezed.

"Avery, it was just a nightmare, okay?" Juliette said, but she was afraid to move to close to him. "You're here, you're fine."

His right hand groped the nightstand until he found an inhaler, which he took. Soon he was breathing in a more regular rhythm.

Juliette turned to Glenn and Emily. "Would you give us a minute?"

They both nodded and left the room.

Juliette slowly approached Avery and sat on the bed. "You okay now?"

"You mean, am I dying? No." He turned his head to the left on the pillow, avoiding her gaze.

"Must have been some nightmare. It sounded like you were being murdered in here."

Avery buried his hands in his blankets to cover up the fact that they were shaking from the medication. "I was drowning," he said. "In the Hocking River. I couldn't surface."

Juliette paused. "Do you remember when you first woke up in the ICU?"

"No."

"You told me you couldn't breathe, that you had been drowning."

Avery slowly sat up.

Juliette reached out and gently rubbed his leg. "The doctors told me that you might have nightmares. They said it's common for people to have trouble when they leave the ICU."

He didn't respond.

"Where's the Hocking River?"

His eyes got distant. "Where I'm from."

"I noticed you didn't say 'home.'"

"I didn't."

Juliette turned the bracelet on her wrist. "You're the guy with a map of Ohio on his wall. Why won't you talk about it?"

He looked down. "I miss it sometimes. The mountains. I guess I had to be away from it for a while to be proud of where I'm from. But it doesn't mean I want to go back."

"I don't know. It seems like it's on your mind."

"What's on my mind," Avery said, raising his head, "is that I'm sick, again. And I'm never going to be better. Asthma ruled the first thirteen years of my life. Now it's got the rest of it."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Juliette said. "It seems like it's treatable."

"Until I end up having another severe attack again."

"But this time it won't be such a surprise. You have your inhalers."

Avery coughed. "Sometimes they don't work. Sometimes people die from this."

Juliette rose from the bed. "Maybe you should get out of here for a little bit. Come sit in the living room. You're getting depressed from being stuck in here."

Avery's eyes narrowed. "I'm depressed because they've got me pumped full of medication like I'm an old man! I'm depressed because I'm so fucking weak I can't even stand up for more than a few minutes! I'm depressed because I can't breathe!"

Juliette backed up. "You don't have to yell at me. I'm trying to help."

"I don't want your help!"

"What is _wrong_ with you?"

Avery reached his hands behind his neck, then looked up. "Where's my necklace?"

Juliette squinted. "How did we get to that?"

"Where is my necklace?" He started patting the bed as if it had been lost in the sheets.

"Relax," Juliette said. "I have it right here. They wouldn't let you wear it in the hospital." The medals had been hidden under her shirt. She pushed her hair out of the way, reached up and removed it from her neck. "I don't know why you just noticed now you didn't have it."

Avery looked at her as she handed it to him. "Why were you wearing it?"

Juliette's stomach clenched, thinking of those first few moments he'd been in the ICU. "I didn't want to lose it. Figured it would be safest if I always kept it on. You said it was for protection, and I needed some at that moment."

Though his hands still shook, he put on and clasped the necklace.

"Who gave it to you?"

"Doesn't matter," Avery grunted.

"Is this like the witness protection program or something?" Juliette put her hands on her hips. "Is your name really Avery Barkley?"

"What the fuck kind of question is that?" Avery threw back the covers. "Of course it's my name!"

"Then why don't I know anything about you? What are you hiding from me?"

"I'm not hiding anything!"

"You are," Juliette said. "You think telling me a few stories in your letters was enough? I had to ask Scarlett what your parents' names are. Even she didn't know your brother's or sister's. We're having a child together and I don't even know basic facts about you!"

"It doesn't matter, Juliette. You're never going to meet them, so you don't need to know their names."

Juliette was suddenly choked up. "Avery, you have a family out there. A mother and a father and a brother and a sister. How could you just walk away? Some of us would kill to have that," she said.

"I don't have to explain or justify my decisions to you. I made them long before I met you. And believe me, they made some decisions about me, too." He looked at the floor.

"I just want to know why you won't talk about them."

"Juliette, stop pushing me. You won't like my reaction if you keep this up."

"Why? What are you afraid of?"

Avery rubbed his neck. "Just stop it, okay?"

Juliette took her right hand and she wrenched off a ring. His ring. "Here's another piece of your stupid jewelry." She threw it on the bed and it bounced before landing on his pillow. "Maybe when you stop acting like a two-year-old, you can come and have a conversation with me!" She turned and quickly walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Avery stared at the ring for a moment before putting it back on his pinky. Then he curled up his fist and started slamming the pillow until he had no strength left.

* * *

He had crept into the kitchen a short while later because he was hungry. He'd dug into the cabinets until he'd found two boxes of instant macaroni and cheese. He'd already boiled and drained the pasta and was dumping in the milk, powdered cheese and a whole stick of butter when Juliette walked into the kitchen. She sniffed and gagged. "What is that?"

Avery squinted at her. "It's macaroni and cheese. I'm hungry. Do you want some?"

Juliette turned away to face the living room. "God no. It smells awful."

"Uh, you're the one who bought it and keeps in the cupboard."

She walked into the living room. "I'm just saying it's gross and it's making me sick."

Avery vigorously stirred the pasta. "I'll take it in my room. I don't understand this. You make pink macaroni all the time."

She threw up her hands. "That's totally different! Why are you arguing with me today? Just get it out of here!"

"I'm almost done. Let me find a bowl if that's _okay_," he said, patience wearing thin.

Juliette's phone buzzed on the counter. She picked it up and looked at the text message. "Now I'm really going to be sick. It's a text from Jeff."

Avery stopped searching the cabinets. He swallowed. "What does he want?"

"It just says, 'Turn on channel two.'" She put down the phone. "He's probably playing some head game with me."

"Over the television?"

Juliette picked up the remote. "Fine. But if it's something awful I'm blaming you."

Avery banged a bowl onto the counter and started scooping the macaroni in as she turned on the TV. It was the six o'clock news and a story about a proposed new high school was wrapping up. Then the shot changed back to the anchor's desk.

"Today Edgehill Republic CEO Jeff Fordham had a couple of major announcements to make at a press conference at Vanderbilt Hospital. Reporting is Nicole Lyon."

Juliette and Avery shared a look but were silent.

"Today Jeff Fordham announced a ten million-dollar gift to Vanderbilt University Hospital from Edgehill Republic to fund a major upgrade to its emergency department," the report began.

"Great, so he wants me to watch a fluff piece so I can feel bad about myself or something. Give me a break."

"They said there were a couple announcements. Wait a second."

A shot of the hospital's chief of staff ended and Jeff was onscreen behind a podium. The reporter's voice-over said, "Fordham also took a moment to discuss his recent attack at The Bluebird Café, and what he said may surprise you."

Neither Juliette nor Avery could take their eyes off the screen.

"Some of you may know that I was assaulted a few weeks ago at the Bluebird. I pressed charges against my attacker, Avery Barkley, and we are set to have a hearing in a few days." Jeff paused. "Or rather, we _were_ having a hearing. I thought I would take this occasion to announce that I'm dropping all charges against Mr. Barkley."

Avery couldn't believe what he was hearing, but he knew something bad was coming next.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking over the past few weeks, and I've come to realize that forgiveness is much more powerful than hate. By forgiving, I'm setting myself free." Jeff looked at sympathetic faces in the audience. "Clearly Mr. Barkley is a troubled young man, and pursuing charges against him would only delay him getting the help he so clearly needs. I'm concerned about his mental health, and he certainly wouldn't be getting that treatment in jail. So, I am letting this matter go and moving on with my life. It's a much healthier way to live, and I'm looking forward to better things in future, such as making this hospital's emergency department the best in the state."

When the report ended, Juliette clicked off the television. "Oh my God, Avery. I was not expecting that."

Avery calmly scooped some macaroni into his mouth and chewed.

"Do you know what this means?" Juliette's eyes brightened. "You'll be there when the baby is born."

He softened a fraction. "Yeah."

"Don't sound so excited," Juliette said.

Avery chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "I've got to admit, Jeff Fordham is brilliant."

"What?"

"He knew exactly what he was doing. That was really well played."

"Avery, there is something screwed up in your brain right now. He's dropping the charges. You won't go to prison. You'll be there for the birth of your child. Why aren't you happy?" Juliette gripped the counter, exasperated.

He looked hard at her. "Did you listen to what he did there? He didn't need to press charges. He just convicted me in the eyes of the public. He made me look like a nut job without paying a lawyer a dime. Now I'll never be able to stand up in court and tell my side of the story. It's over."

Juliette sighed. "Okay, I can understand that. It sucks that he talked about you that way. But you've got to see the bigger picture here. We can make plans for the future now that don't involve me bringing a baby for visiting hours in jail. Your life, our lives, aren't in limbo anymore."

He shook his head. "I don't know how you can say that. Everything's changed." He picked up the bowl. "So excuse your psycho baby daddy if he's upset. After all, he can't control himself." He walked down the hallway to his room and shut the door, leaving Juliette standing by herself, wondering what just happened.

* * *

Juliette woke to music. It was so quiet she wasn't sure if she was dreaming it, but there it was, something soft with piano and lap steel. She looked over at her clock. It was close to one in the morning. She got up and walked out of her room, following the sound.

There were no lights on in the living room- only the indicator lights on the stereo. She had to let her eyes adjust to the dark until she could see him sitting on the couch, gaze on the Nashville skyline out the windows. "Avery?"

He looked over at her. "Hey. I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

She carefully moved over to the couch. "Kind of. It's like one in the morning. What are you doing up?"

He rubbed his eyes. "Can't sleep." He motioned to the stereo. "I just wanted to listen to some music and I'm sick of earbuds. Some things deserve real speakers. I thought I'd kept it low enough. I apologize." He cleared his throat. "For a lot of things."

Juliette pushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. "Such as?"

"For being a jerk earlier. It's these damn steroids. They make me crazy." He held out his hand. "Not that it's an excuse."

"They why you can't sleep?"

"Yeah."

Even though Juliette was still a little hurt by the way he'd acted, she recognized that Avery was carrying a heavy burden with his illness. She wasn't sure she'd be able to handle something like it if roles were reversed. "Well," she said, scooting closer to him, "I'm sure some of what happened earlier was due to my hormones." She sighed. "You've certainly seen me at my worst and it hasn't scared you away yet. We're volatile people. Things happen."

"They do," he said softly.

Juliette cringed at her word choice. "I didn't mean – damn it." Then he surprised her – he reached out and put his arm around her shoulders. It was an instinctive gesture that she wasn't expecting. But then again, that was him. She'd never expected him.

"What are you listening to?" she asked after a few moments.

"Jackson Browne. This is his album _Late for the Sky_. It's a masterpiece."

"The music sounds kind of sad."

Avery smiled. "It is. I'd say the songs are about trying to make a connection with someone. Sometimes you recognize something familiar in someone else, and sometimes you're just talking past each other. It's blue, lonely, gorgeous music. Kind of like life."

She looked up at him and she saw a flash of sadness in his eyes. She wondered how much of that she'd put there, and how much he'd already been through. "I don't want to push you," she said, reaching up to his left hand and gently stroking it. "I just want you to let me in. That's all I ever wanted."

He looked at her. "Now you know how I feel."

"Come on, Avery, you know everything about me."

"That's not true and you know it." He shook his head. "You've got depths inside you I've never seen."

"You know, you're one of very few people who think I have any depth at all."

"People are stupid. They're unwilling to look past the surface."

"I'm sorry for what Jeff said about you. It was unfair." Her eyelids fluttered. She was so damn tired all the time.

"Yeah, well." He let out a big breath. "I'm sorry I let my anger cloud my thinking earlier. Of course I'm happy I'm not going to jail. Of course I want to be there for the birth of our child. I want to help you in whatever way you want."

Juliette relaxed and leaned her head against the back of the couch. "This song really beautiful," she said, voice drowsy.

"That it is," Avery said, and they both sat and just listened for a while.

Juliette drifted, but she could feel the warmth from the way he wrapped his arm around her, and it brought her some peace, peace that she hadn't felt in a long time.

Sometime during "The Late Show," Juliette's head nodded and landed gently on Avery's shoulder. She was asleep. Avery watched her breathe and then softly, hesitantly, sang some of the lyrics to her, not trusting his own broken voice but wanting to do it anyway. "You could be with somebody who is lonely, too - sometimes it doesn't show. He might be trying to get across to you – words can be so slow."

He sat that way, with her leaning on him, almost all night.

* * *

They were sitting in one of Dr. Davis' exam rooms, waiting for her to return. Juliette had already had a thorough exam but they weren't done yet.

"How is it that every medical building has that same smell?" Juliette asked. "Like rubbing alcohol and plastic gloves."

"They use a lot of rubbing alcohol and plastic gloves," he said, then grinned at her.

"You get off on teasing me, don't you, Barkley?"

"You know you give as good as you get."

She rolled her eyes but wasn't mad.

Doctor Davis came back in. "Sorry for the interruption. I'd just like to do another ultrasound. You probably won't be having one for another eight to nine weeks."

"Okay," Juliette said. She lifted up the gown so the doctor could access her abdomen.

"Here comes the gel. I know it's cold," Dr. Davis said, squeezing it out from a bottle.

Juliette flinched a little when it went on but didn't say anything.

"Dr. Davis?" Avery asked. "I don't mean to stop you from doing what you're doing, but I have a question."

"Ask away," she said as she got the machine set up.

Juliette looked at Avery, wondering what he was going to say. He'd been mostly quiet when she talked about the pregnancy.

He bit his lip and paused before proceeding. "You know I have asthma. I had a pretty bad case of it when I was a child. It started when I was two." He blinked a few times and spoke softly. "What I want to know is: will our baby have asthma, too?

The doctor turned to him. "We can't know for certain if your baby will have asthma, but there's a strong genetic component, one that we haven't entirely figured out yet. But we estimate that a child of a parent with asthma is three to six times more likely to get it than a child without a family history."

Avery's face sank at the news.

Juliette reached out and grabbed his hand. "Hey. Don't worry about that now. We don't know what'll happen in the future."

Avery wouldn't look at her. "But if I'm the cause of our child being sick – "

Dr. Davis held the transducer in her hand. "Avery, you can't blame yourself for things that are out of your control. We all have lots of health issues that can we can pass on to offspring, some of which we don't even recognize yet. Don't stress about it. It's not good for anyone."

Juliette squeezed his hand. "Our baby's going to get lots of good things from you, I know it."

He finally looked up at her. "Thanks."

The doctor then started the test. She paused the transducer over Juliette's abdomen, stopping frequently to take snapshots of images. "Okay, guys," she said, turning the monitor to face them. "It's kind of hard to make out this early, but here's your baby."

Juliette and Avery looked at the grainy image on the monitor. The doctor pointed. "Here's the baby's head, the torso, the legs."

Juliette's heart pounded as she looked at the image. She had trouble making out everything the doctor was pointing to, but oh, she could feel it. She knew she was carrying something precious, something good.

"Okay, now I'm going to measure the baby's heartbeat. Let me turn on the Doppler."

Soon the dark room was filled with a strong whooshing sound. Avery was almost physically pushed back in his chair by it. "It's so fast," he said.

The doctor nodded. "It's about 135 beats a minute right now. That's perfect for a developing fetus."

Avery looked at Juliette. She was on the exam table fighting back tears. "Oh my God," he said.

Juliette couldn't say a word.

* * *

They'd walked back to the car loaded down with brochures and magazines and samples of prenatal vitamins, which they'd dumped in the backseat. Juliette now had a regular schedule of appointments and tests she needed to complete.

Avery leaned his head back against the seat. "Wow. There's so much to think about." He looked around. "Like maybe getting a new car. I don't know if a Corvette is kid-friendly."

Juliette didn't say anything, simply slid the key into the ignition. But she didn't turn it.

Avery looked over at Juliette. "Hey. You okay?"

She didn't move. "I'm okay."

"Come on, Juliette. This is just hitting you now, isn't it?"

Juliette squeezed the steering wheel. "I mean, it just keeps hitting me. Every day it's more and more real." She looked out the window. "I don't know if I can do this." Then she brought a hand to her mouth so she wouldn't cry.

Avery reached over and grabbed her shoulder. "I'm scared, too. Really, really scared. But I want you to listen to me."

She looked to him with wide, watery eyes.

"You are Juliette Barnes. You are the strongest, bravest person I know. You're going to feel the fear, but you're going to do it anyway. And you won't be alone. I ain't going anywhere."

She gave him a shaky smile and brought his hand to her stomach. "This baby is lucky to have you. I want you to know that I'm proud that you're the father of my child."

Avery blushed. "Well, I couldn't have picked a more amazing, bad-ass Mama for my child."

Juliette laughed at his description. He always knew how to make her feel better. "Let's get out of here," she said.


End file.
